


BtVS & AtS Drabbles

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-22
Updated: 2006-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles set in the BtVS and AtS 'verse. All characters and pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On Summer Sunsets (3):

 

* * *

The Perfect Tan  
(Harmony, pre-S3, PG - 12/22/2003)

“ _C’mon_!” Harmony pouted, shoulders slumping. “Summer’s over in, like, a week!” She shuddered at the thought of books, classes, and pathetic _losers_. This immediacy increased her fear tenfold. “I _need_ this,” she pleaded. “If all those people saw me like this, I’d, like, never be able to go out in public again!” When even the words of the fabulous Harmony Kendall couldn’t change _this_ cruel twist of fate, she grudgingly left her family pool. And, snapping her gum, she informed the setting summer sun primly, “It is _so_ your fault if I go back to school without the perfect tan.”

 

* * *

The Little Things  
(Angel, post-AtS, PG - 12/22/2003)

He missed the little things on nights like these. The solstice had been the bane of his vampire existence. The long wait for the night to begin…

Human now, he could finally enjoy these long summer days, walk in the sunshine, watch soft oranges of the sunset.

It was beautiful. But gaining it, he had lost something else. That excited thrill down the back of his spine, the feeling of freedom and _belonging_ once the sky finally darkened.

But Angel had traded the night for the day long ago, even if little things like sunsets reminded him of pleasures lost.

 

* * *

Summer Ennui  
(Spike/Dru, pre-S2, R - 12/22/2003)

Spike growled when he awoke to find the sun still beating against the heavy curtains that protected them from the deadly rays.

Beside him, Drusllia whimpered. “Not gone yet?”

“Not yet, princess,” he complained. “Bloody summer sunsets hafta be so late…”

She smiled and curled more snuggly against his nude form. “We’ll just have to make the sunset even bloodier then, won’t we, my pet?” she cooed, looking up at him with wicked, seductive eyes.

A dark smile curved his own lips. “The longer the wait, the sweeter the blood,” he agreed, returning to their pleasure as they awaited nightfall…

 

* * *

On Success/Failure (3):

 

* * *

Another Victory  
(Willow & Sheila Rosenberg, S6, PG13 - 12/8/2003)

“It’s unacceptable,” Sheila Rosenberg insisted sternly. “I didn’t fully approve when you chose a state college over a private one, but you certainly should make straight A’s at such a substandard institution.” She paused expectantly.

Willow’s head pounded. She wanted to flee right then. A deep, dark magic called to her, whispering sweet promises… She managed to force the thoughts back and focus. “You’re right,” she nodded.

Sheila smiled in triumph. Another success for her parental program. Now, to give in turn and reinforce their mutual relationship. “So, how are things going with that guitarist you’re dating?” she asked politely.

 

* * *

A Matter Of Perspective  
(Anya/Xander, S6, PG - 12/8/2003)

“I’m a failure,” Anya insisted, head slumped on the kitchen table.

“No, you’re not,” Xander soothed.

“Just look!” She gestured to her finance papers. “My investment portfolio only tripled this quarter, half my expectation! At this rate – assuming private college education for exactly 2.35 children, plus a mortgage of 1.64 million – I’ll only have twenty-seven million by the time I retire, and I’ll die a pauper!” She sniffed piteously.

Xander stared in numb shock. “D-Did you say _million_?”

“After tax,” she grumbled sullenly.

He blinked in awed disbelief. “You have a very strange definition of failure, Ahn,” he informed her…

 

* * *

The Sacrifices of Duty  
(Spike/Buffy, 'Him', R - 12/8/2003)

Buffy was so close to success, that sweet moment of release. She and Spike rolled on the ground, bodies twisting. Until, suddenly, he was gone.

Buffy stared at that tantalizing shaft – obscenely long and thick – rising before him. She _needed_ to feel its cool strength…

Spike fled. Desperately, she chased him. Rounding the corner, Xander halted her, however. “Dawn’s in trouble!”

Buffy sighed longingly before turning to Slayer-mode, “We’ll find her.” Spike shrugged apologetically, and she whimpered. So close, only to fail…

But the bazooka was gone, Wood was alive, and she didn’t have time to win RJ’s heart anymore.

 

* * *

On Cannibalism (3):

 

* * *

Rated ‘R’ for a Reason…  
(Xander, Willow, & Jesse, pre-BtVS, PG13 - 12/3/2003)

“Wait…” Xander frowned. “Where’d he get the guard mask?”

Willow was still hidden under the blanket, hiding her eyes.

Jesse wished he hadn’t eaten all those Doritos and cookies. He might be sick…

“Well?” Xander repeated, confused.

“He’s a _cannibal_ , Xan…” Jesse gulped

“So…?” Xander froze mid-syllable in realization. “Oh… _EW_!” Disgusted, he changed the channel.

“It’s safe now.” Jesse poked Willow.

“It’s over?” she asked anxiously, wide green eyes peeking over the edge of the blanket. “We’re not watching ‘Silence of the Lambs’ anymore?”

“No more cannibals,” Xander promised, channel surfing. “Ooh… ‘Reservoir Dogs’!”

“Eep!” And Willow hid again.

 

* * *

Enterprising Demons  
(Anya & the Master, set in S3's 'Wish'-verse, R - 12/2/2003)

“Expansion,” Anya announced perkily, enjoying her niche in this vampire-verse.

The Master blinked. “Expansion?”

“Vital for business. We monopolize the demon market, but what about humans? Billions of human dollars just _waiting_!”

“Humans won’t drink human blood…”

“Watch this.” She hit play.

The TV showed a beautiful woman. Days passed, buildings rose, yet she remained young. Finally, she lifted a glass of blood and drank with a sexy smile.

‘Forever Young. From Master’s Incorporated’ read the bottom of the screen.

He blinked incredulously. “A _beauty_ product?”

“It’s worked before.” Anya handed him the form. “Now, sign.”

He shrugged. And did.

 

* * *

Letting the Cat out of the Bag…  
(Clem, Spike, & Wesley, Clem-ful AtS S5, PG13 - 12/1/2003)

“ _…Noli felem_!” Wesley shouted.

A bright flash, and the small gray kitten transformed back into a familiar wrinkly-skinned demon.

“Whew,” Clem breathed in relief, wiggling his claws experimentally. “Remind me never to mistake the Queen Felicis Demon’s spawn for poker antes again.”

Wesley raised a curious eyebrow. “This is your friend?” he asked Spike skeptically.

“Dear old chum,” Spike retorted defensively.

“And thanks for finding the uncursing mojo,” Clem beamed. “I owe you, man.”

“How ‘bout paying for those seventeen kittens you ate?” Spike countered pointedly.

Clem frowned at that. “Technically, does that make me a cannibal now?” he wondered…

 

* * *

On Creation (3):

 

* * *

Rebirth  
(Spike/Drusilla, pre-BtVS, PG13 - 12/1/2003)

Pride filled Drusilla at the lifeless body in her arms. This boy’s blood had been warm, sweet… She was almost disappointed it was gone.

But in its place was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. Her fingers traced one razor-sharp cheekbone, and she smiled contentedly, nuzzling her sleeping playmate. So perfect… The birdies whispered wonderful little chirps in her ear about a black knight who would do all sorts of _wicked_ things. The thought made her purr.

She leaned in to kiss cold lips, and abruptly crystal blue eyes snapped open. “Welcome, my creation,” she cooed, devouring William’s mouth…

 

* * *

Never Question Genius At Work  
(Xander & Dawn, pre-'Same Time, Same Place', PG - 12/1/2003)

Tongue sticking out in concentration, Xander drew the final line. Nervous sweat beaded on his brow. Everything had to be absolutely, positively perfect…

His hand froze and pulled back. Another second and he would’ve gone too far, ruining his entire masterpiece. He breathed a sigh of relief at his near miss and sat back to survey his work of art.

“What do you think?”

“Kinda hard to read, isn’t it?” Dawn gestured to the yellow crayon name ‘Willow’.

“Blasphemer!” he joked, mock-offended. “How dare you question my creation?”

Dawn giggled. “Sorry…”

A sigh. “Hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

 

* * *

In the Beginning  
(Dawn, S5, PG - 12/1/2003)

As it had for millennia, the Key existed. Aware and unaware of its surroundings. Conscious and not. The first glimpse of life not quite expressed. A _potential_ really, only half-formed.

It watched the borders between worlds swirl around it. Thin green membranes impenetrable to any other being in the multi-verse. But it had detected something else recently, powerful magic, a _pull_ that shaped it, created it. It had no thought yet, but it could observe: Form changing, becoming alive. Mind developing, filled with memories.

The former Key vanished, and the newly created being filled with certain knowledge:

 _I am Dawn._

 

* * *

On Naked Clowns Smoking on the Subway (3):

 

* * *

Not-Quite-Tall Tales  
(Spike/Fred, early AtS S5, PG13 - 11/28/2003)

Fred yawned.

Spike’s eyebrow quirked. “Bored, pet?”

“No.” She stifled another. “Go on.”

“You even listenin’?” he demanded suspiciously.

“Yup. Continue.”

“With…?” he tested.

“Whatever happened after Dru stripped the evil demon clown she tackled in the subway,” she answered, amused.

He sulked. “Well, he asks to bum a fag, and—”

Fred snickered.

“S’not funny!” he insisted defensively. “The love of my unlife’s cheatin’ on me with an evil clown!”

“Sorry…”

He frowned. “You don’t even believe me, do you?”

“Was the ‘clown’ Angel?” she guessed.

“Bloody bird’s too smart for her own good,” he finally grumbled in defeat.

 

* * *

A Not Really Remotely Apocalyptic Battle  
(Buffy, post-'Chosen', PG13 - 11/28/2003)

“Ugh,” Buffy grimaced. “I know subways are dangerous, but…dead-looking people _really_ shouldn’t leap out of the garbage…”

Her foe swung; she dodged.

“And, no offense, but you _desperately_ need some clothes. ‘Cause no chance you’re making Ten Hottest Demons list. Trust me; I’ve seen _real_ contenders…” She caught the vamp’s fist, throwing him onto the stairs.

He snarled…

And she started giggling.

He froze, puzzled.

“Sorry. It’s just…pale skin? Frizzy red hair? You look like a clown…” She kicked him up into the daylight.

He sizzled and smoked, crumbling to dust.

And Buffy sighed. “Who sires these losers?”

 

* * *

Hell  
(Giles, post-'Chosen', PG13 - 11/25/2003)

Only two years ago he’d fled this hell. English countryside, witch coven eager to share their sex magic, relaxing days ahead…

Now Giles stood on the New York subway platform at midnight, clutching the stake in his tweed jacket.

“Spare a balloon?”

Giles jumped at the voice and accompanying slap to his butt, cross bared…and came to a disbelieving halt.

With an offended huff, as if Giles were nuts, the clown pulled on the string that yanked his pants back up, plucking a cigarette from his frizzy rainbow wig. “Weirdo,” he grumbled, stalking off.

Giles shuddered. Yes, hell indeed…

 

* * *

On Prophecies (3):

 

* * *

Hindsight On Foresight  
(Drusilla, pre-S2, PG13 - 11/24/2003)

It’s a curse sometimes. So many have envied her, used her, wanting only one thing. Her gift.

If she weren’t mad already, these visions would drive her so. In rare moments of lucidity, she wonders… What does it mean that she sees the future? That every event is spilled out before her eyes in layers of prophecies? Do actions – choices – mean nothing, then? What can she do to prevent it?

And, sighing, Drusilla brushes back one platinum lock from her sleeping lover’s forehead. “Only a few more precious years to savor together,” she whispers sadly before turning off the light…

 

* * *

The King of Cups  
(Spike, post-'Destiny', PG13 - 11/24/2003)

Spike roars in triumph. Even some gloating that he was man enough not to stake the Poofter. The blood and broken ribs don’t matter now. The golden cup is in his hand, and a memory of a century-old fight with this same vampire resurfaces.

 _“The King of Cups expects a picnic…but today is not his birthday.”_

Today, then. Battle finally won, he drinks deep…

Spits convulsively. “It’s Mountain Dew,” he provides for Angel’s benefit.

Twin reluctant slumps of shoulders. The prophecy still waits for another day. And Dru’s voice laughs in his head: _“Silly boy. Still not your birthday…”_

 

* * *

Of Dire Portends  
(Giles and Buffy, post-S1, PG - 11/24/2003)

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Giles dropped a massive tome on the library table.

Buffy sighed. “What now?”

“I’ve discovered another prophecy. You are fated to guide the balance against evil, and if—”

“Hold on,” Buffy broke in anxiously. “There can’t be another prophecy about me! I already died in the last one! Doesn’t that mean: ‘Prophecy free since 1997’?”

“—You don’t dance the hokey-pokey before the next full moon, our world will be destroyed.” An expectant look.

Buffy blinked, dumbfounded.

“April Fools?”

And Buffy groaned. “Seriously, Giles,” she said in annoyance and relief, “you _desperately_ need a girlfriend…”

 

* * *

On The New (3):

 

* * *

Something New  
(Willow/Tara, late S4, R - 11/17/2003)

Willow woke in a contented haze, sleepy limbs tangled with those of the woman beside her, her head resting comfortably on her lover’s breast. She murmured against the naked flesh, nuzzling herself in, and…

Wait a minute? _Woman_?

Blinking, she opened her eyes to find Tara smiling down at her. A woman, indeed. A beautiful, kind, wonderful woman that made her feel more special than anyone else. She smiled back and leaned in for a sweet kiss, humming contently as Tara snuggled up against her.

Yes, last night had definitely been something new. And neither could wait to repeat it…

 

* * *

For the Better?  
(Spike/Fred, post-'Hellbound', PG - 11/17/2003)

“What’s your vote?” Fred asked, lying in bed, scanning television channels.

“You knew I was here?” Spike sounded disappointed.

“Exactly forty-eight minutes since you last popped by. Just enough time for your nightly Round’O’Annoyance. C’mon…” She patted the bed beside her.

“Uh…”

“John Wayne?” Scrunched up nose. “Can’t stand him, but the Burkles _adored_ him… Wanna mock?”

Spike froze. Still so new being welcomed this easily…

Fred paused. “If you want to. I just thought if you were bored and wanted company—”

He smiled, sitting down close enough to touch but unable to. “Sure.” New, indeed, but perhaps…better?

 

* * *

The Good Old Days  
(Wesley, post-'Lineage', PG - 11/17/2003)

The new is worse, Wesley’s sure.

Every morning he wakes up to what was hitherto the greatest enemy. He watches Fred flirt with her newest ‘friend’, Angel worry in not-quite-silence about selling out, Gunn changed so that he’s barely recognizable, Lorne working himself nearly to death, some impertinent blonde woman who thinks she can take Lilah’s place, and do they really need the obnoxious vampire ghost on top of everything?

Wes longs for simpler times, working together, and…

 _Betrayal, mistakes, cold lonely isolation…_

Shakes his head at the absurd thoughts. After all, his memories _assure_ him it was better before…

 

* * *

Autumn (3):

 

* * *

The Great Non-Autumns of Southern California  
(Spike/Fred, early AtS S5, PG13 - 11/10/2003)

“I hate California.”

Fred looked up, watched Spike staring out the window at the sweltering, sunny heat on this fine Los Angeles afternoon. “Oh?”

“Bloody sun beatin’ down twenty-four seven…”

Fred’s curiosity rose. “You don’t like it? I mean, Angel seems to enjoy—”

“Can’t _stand_ it!” he cut her off angrily. “Now, back home, we had right, _proper_ autumns. Cold, rainy afternoons with the leaves fallin’ and warm fires cracklin’… Take that over this any day.”

A sad smile. “We’ll find a way to bring you back,” she promised. “You’ll see home again.”

A shy, semi-apologetic smile. “I know.”

 

* * *

Maturity  
(Dawn, post-'Chosen', PG - 11/10/2003)

Dawn pauses in her walk as the temptation strikes her.

 _As if!_ Her conscious mind insists, refusing to be seduced.

The urge doesn’t abate. They never really had autumn in Sunnydale with orange-and-gold leaves covering the earth. But her subconscious knows only too well what to do…

 _I’m sixteen_ , mental voice wavers slightly, _way too mature for that kid stuff…_

Still the leaves beckon.

 _Th-There are probably slugs and…_

But childlike impulses are winning out…

And Dawn looks around furtively, makes sure no one can see her, and leaps into the huge pile of raked leaves with an excited “Yippee!”

 

* * *

When Autumn Leaves Start To Fall…  
(Angelus/Spike, post-AtS, NC17 - 11/10/2003)

Liam doesn’t remember Angelus often. It’s everything: Humanity, family, home. But autumn leaves fall now, bringing images of his former freedom…

 _Paris. A crisp autumn day, smelling of leaves and blood. His delinquent grandchilde finally appreciates the romantic atmosphere. Pale, naked limbs tangle, pleasuring each other. Brilliant blue eyes twinkle as Spike sucks him off…_

 _But Dru hated being ignored, made them leave. And Spike’s favor went with the seductive ambience…_

But, watching the swirling eddies of leaves, Liam recalls those blissful days when they were proper lovers. Realizes what he gave up, even if humanity is ultimately worth it.

 

* * *

Free Drabble (1):

 

* * *

The Greatest Foe  
(Xander, early S4, PG - 11/6/2003)

It is the greatest peril that has ever faced humanity. Millions have succumbed to its vile clutches. Even as the Scooby Gang researches their newest foe, its evil claws sink in. It starts off innocently enough: Willow’s casual yawn. Oz’s follows, then Buffy’s. Until even Giles feels his eyelids weigh heavy. Words blur together, weariness resting heavily on the shoulders of our intrepid heroes. That greatest of villains has captured them: Ennui.

But then, the door bursts open…

“Never fear,” Xander saves the day again, suave grin on his face and white cardboard box in hand, “Donut Man is here!”

 

* * *

Misquotes (4):

 

* * *

An Excellent Question  
(Spike/Dru, 1880, R - 11/6/2003)

“I’m hungry,” William purred against the nightshade scent of Drusilla’s hair.

She giggled and scratched her nail down the fine line of his cheekbone. “Now, pet, plenty of time for your tummy later…” Her hand stroked his stomach before squeezing his growing erection. “Must meet our family first.”

He licked his blood from her fingertip, passionate blue eyes intense. “Right, then…”

Drusilla entered the mansion, rousing the two vampires within. “My William,” she presented proudly. “Darla and my Angel…”

And William blinked. “What kind of girly name is Angel, anyway?” he blurted out, newly undead foot already firmly in mouth.

 

* * *

Not Quite Right  
(Harmony, post-'Crush', R - 11/3/2003)

“Do we really need weapons for this?” she asked coyly.

He blinked. “See, that’s what I said...”

“No, no! You’re supposed to say, ‘They just make me feel all manly’.”

“But you just asked...”

“Just. Say. It.”

“Because they make me feel all manly?”

“ _Sexier_!”

“Because they make me feel all manly.” A suave grin.

“No.” Fists clenched. “Sexy bad ass, not sleazy lounge singer!”

“Can’t we just...?”

“Ugh,” she scrunched her nose. “Just...go away.”

Shrugging, he left.

“Why can’t anyone play that game right but my Blondie Bear?” Harmony pouted. Before searching for a _competent_ minion this time...

 

* * *

Warm Comfort  
(Spike/Fred, early AtS S5, PG13 - 11/3/2003)

Fred’s blood boiled. And, given that she could usually pretty much tolerate anything that happened, that was saying something, especially after— _No mental wanderings_ , she insisted sternly. _Mad, remember?_

Verbal thrashing prepared for the offending lab prankster, she opened the door and…

“What’s wrong?” Sudden concern. She’d never imagined he’d be crying. That he _did_ cry.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Spike grumbled, quickly composing himself.

A beat. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you’re a five-foot-two blonde Slayer who’s finally willin’ to love me.” An ironic laugh.

Smiling sadly, she patted his shoulder. “Tell me about it?”

 

* * *

Devil’s Whispers  
(Spike/Buffy, post-'Never Leave Me', PG13 - 11/3/2003)

“You know you’ve got a willing slave,” Spike purred.

Jaw set, Buffy hit the punching bag again.

“’Til the end of the world…even if that’s tonight.”

She refused to respond, blows ever more violent.

“After all ‘ve been through…” he whispered, leaning in tantalizingly close, “don’t I get a cookie?” He fixed her with those big, vulnerable blue eyes that melted her heart.

And she exploded. “Stop it!” Her fist swung out…and went clear through him.

The First morphed into Buffy’s likeness. “You could’ve had him,” it taunted. “But too late now. Now, he’s _mine_.” And it vanished.

 

* * *

Masks/Costumes (3):

 

* * *

Unmasked  
(Spike/Fred friendship, 'Just Rewards', PG13 - 10/27/2003)

He knows what it’s like to live behind a mask. He once told Buffy he’d never been close to anyone before, and it’s true. The Spike the world sees is seductive, snarky, even loyal. But it’s a shield, a necessary act, a role he plays. He’s learned well over the centuries how to lie, how to _survive_.

But, in Fred’s eyes, he thinks he spots a kindred spirit. Oh, she has a cute, innocent, scatterbrained mask, but something inside her is sharper than that. Sees right through him.

Makes it easier to say those oh-so-difficult words: “I need your help.”

 

* * *

Black Leather Armor  
(Spike, 'Get It Done', PG13 - 10/27/2003)

It’s a relief when he slips into the black leather. Fits him perfectly, it does, like a second skin. And, angry as he is, Spike concedes she wasn’t completely wrong. A part of him – a part the Slayer needed – has been missing since he returned from Africa.

Rolls his shoulders, grinds his jaw, and struts from the basement, whole once more. Ready for a nice spot of violence.

 _The Big Bad’s got his costume back_ , he thinks to her, still pissed at the way she treated him. Then, more conciliatory. _And thanks for givin’ him permission to come out again…_

 

* * *

Dead Man’s Party, Redux  
(Buffy, post-'Dead Man's Party', PG13 - 10/27/2003)

With narrowed eyes, Buffy flipped open the box top. She glanced around the storeroom of her mother’s gallery nervously. Silence all around; the coast was clear. Braving the dangers of thousands of packing peanuts, she routed around in the wooden crate. Her fingers quickly found the familiar planes of a face, and she pulled the object out.

“Ha, take that, zombie bastards,” she exclaimed, enthusiastically crushing the mask in her hands. And then stomping on the pieces for good measure.

And, slapping her palms together, she quickly crossed off the item of inventory: _One Nigerian mask (second in matching set)_.

 

* * *

Open Drabble -  
Spike/Fred Frienship (3):

 

* * *

Infuriating  
(Spike/Fred friendship, early AtS S5, PG13 - 10/25/2003)

“Bored now,” Spike complained.

Fred groaned, distracted from her calculations again. “I don’t need to hear that every minute,” she snapped, annoyed. “If you’re so bored, why don’t you bother someone else and leave _me_ alone?”

Brief hurt in his eyes, so deep she barely saw it. “Fine.” Affected disinterest. “Know when ‘m not wanted.”

“Spike, wait…” Apologetically. “I-I’m just cranky today. You know I like having you here, not worrying you’re in Hell…”

Such a delighted, innocent smile she knew it wasn’t an act for once. “Right then,” he commented nonchalantly.

She returned to work…

“Bored now.”

…And smiled.

 

* * *

Two Really Bored People Waiting For Lab Test Results  
(Spike/Fred friendship, early AtS S5, PG - 10/25/2003)

“So, ‘s bigger than your desk and made of metal?” Spike repeated.

“Well, certain components of it are,” Fred conceded.

He groaned. “Is it somethin’ I’ve ever even _heard_ of?”

“I…think so?”

An eyeroll. “Just tell me.”

“A spatial interphasic energy capacitor?”

Attempted head bang on the table. He went clear through it, of course, and she laughed. “You’re doin’ that on purpose,” he accused good-naturedly.

“Maybe…” A quirky smile. “But there’s still an hour left so… Your turn.”

“All right, got one.”

Suspiciously. “Does it still exist this _century_?”

“Oi! I only did that once…er, three times…”

 

* * *

Lies My Vampire Told Me  
(Spike/Fred friendship, early AtS S5, PG13 - 10/25/2003)

“So,” Fred asked curiously, “what were you like as a human?”

Spike raised one eyebrow, fixing her with a penetrating look that had no effect whatsoever except that semi-amused quirk of her lips. Ah well, he’d never missed an opportunity to brag before…

“My William the Bloody days?” Purr husky, eyelashes lowered, evil smirk in place.

“Those.”

He sidled up close. “What can I say, baby? I’ve always been bad…”

“Uh-huh.” That incredulous stare he was becoming so familiar with.

“Oh bugger… Fine, ‘ll tell you the truth. Just…promise not to laugh?”

Fred smiled, crossing her heart. “I promise.”

 

* * *

Stairs (3):

 

* * *

One Moment  
(Spike/Buffy, early S6, PG13 - 10/25/2003)

They sit side-by-side on the back steps, and she shivers. Says nothing, though. Still too haunted by memories of where she’s just been.

Hesitantly, Spike sidles closer, wishing his body had warmth to give her. A cautious arm slips around her shoulders, holding her close.

Briefly she rests her head on his shoulder, finding warmth despite its physical absence. Heaven was like this: _Surrounded by love._ Wasn’t she just as surrounded by his love now?

Then reality reasserts itself, and they’re Slayer and Vampire again. Buffy pulls back, whispering two words she probably should have said long ago:

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

The Lowest Point  
(Jonathan, 'Earshot', PG13 - 10/25/2003)

The gun weighs heavier with each stair winding upwards, giving him time to reflect…

 _Larry smacks him, causing his books to scatter. Everyone laughs as he scrambles for them. No one bothers to help._

 _Xander’s smart remarks, mocking the Star Trek books. No one defends him. Even other nerds get more respect._

 _Jessica, chess club co-captain. So much courage to ask her to prom, and only a disgusted blink in response._

He’s at the top now, ready, when suddenly a hero bursts in and… Buffy actually sees the Real Jonathan. And suddenly he thinks he’s not a nobody after all.

 

* * *

Climbing and Falling  
(Spike/Dawn friendship, 'The Gift', PG13 - 10/24/2003)

Panicked, forcing himself not to look to the top of the tower, he races up the stairs. Counts them down as he goes.

 _Two flights left._

The glint of the knife in Doc’s hand.

Hurries faster.

 _One flight left._

Dawn’s terrified whimper.

Reaches the top with triumph, just in time to save his Bit…

Moments later he’s falling to the pavement below, moving in slow motion, counting the stairs all over again on his way down, the fear in Dawn’s eyes as he was shoved over the edge burned into his brain.

 _I’m so sorry_ , Spike thinks before passing out.

 

* * *

On Photographs/Albums (3):

 

* * *

Memories Reborn  
(Spike/Buffy, post-S5 and 'Bargaining', PG13 - 10/6/2003)

A few precious photographs he’d stolen had been his only comfort for 147 days. He’d stroked the glossy finishes, saltwater from his tears curling the edges and the involuntary clenching of his fists crinkling them in his sleep. He’d felt self-disgust that a creature like him should defile her memory in such a way, but he couldn’t survive a day without seeing her bright smile and golden hair.

But, as Spike stood at the bottom of the stairs on the 148th day, all pictures he paled in imitation, and joy filled his heart for the first time in an eternity.

 

* * *

Real  
(Dawn, post-'Chosen', PG13 - 10/6/2003)

Dawn bought the disposable camera when the bus stopped for gas. Buffy merely rolled her eyes as Dawn began snapping dozens of pictures, catching everyone at their worst. Dawn always had been a bit of a shutterbug, and her pictures were all terrible.

Dawn didn’t care, though. All the pictures – albums upon albums – of the people she’d loved had been destroyed with Sunnydale. Her mom, Spike, Anya, all gone…

But also gone were the false photos that had haunted the Summers albums. Now Dawn knew she was real, and it was about time she recorded a real life for herself…

 

* * *

Flesh and Blood  
(Angel/Spike...er, _not hatred_ ~_^, AtS S5, PG - 10/6/2003)

Only when Angel was sure his annoying pseudo-Childe was gone did he remove the battered album from under his bed. Not many possessions survived his Angelus days, but Angel couldn’t part with this one.

He flipped it open haphazardly. Grainy old photographs, many more drawings. Of Darla, Drusilla, Spike…

He touched one. A sketch he’d drawn during Spike’s year of mayhem in Sunnydale. The only one of Spike’s punk look.

And he wondered again whether he was crazy to be inwardly pleased that one of his family had come back. Even if Spike _was_ the most infuriating creature in existence…

 

* * *

On Music (3):

 

* * *

You Can Make Me Feel  
(Spike/Buffy, post-'Chosen', NC17 - 9/29/2003)

The hot water of the shower spray hit her, easing tonight’s bruises. With a contented sigh, Buffy hummed the song in her head, fingers finding her aching wetness and plunging inside. She gasped and pressed her forehead against the cold tile in imitation of his strong chest, rocking to the remembered beat. Sometimes she feared she’d forget him, but then this pulsing rhythm took over, bringing him back to her.

“Spike!” Screamed in ecstasy, the music within reaching its crescendo.

And then, slowly, the words repeated, bringing her back to their short-lived love again:

 _I died so many years ago…_

 

* * *

Moonlight Whispers  
(Spike/Dru, pre-S2, R - 9/29/2003)

Lazily, he opened his eyes to see his Dark Goddess dancing around their bedroom, swaying to a haunting melody that only she could hear. A wicked smile curved the edges of his lips when she turned, one coy finger drawing him into her scarlet serenade.

Naked bodies pressed together intimately, rocking to unheard melodies, and Drusilla purred into his ear: “The music’s changing…whispering nasty things. Pain. Death. Suffering.” An even lower whisper. “But ours this time…”

Spike held her close and shook the warning off. After all, they were immortal and together, and soon they’d paint Prague red… Literally.

 

* * *

Innocence Lost  
(S4, PG - 9/29/2003)

Buffy staggered, the horror of the situation fully hitting her. She felt her stomach churning, a sense of complete _wrongness_ building up within her. God, this just couldn’t be true. It _couldn’t_. She managed to catch her balance and turned hopeful eyes up to Willow and Xander, silently pleading with them, begging them to tell her it was all a joke.

In turn, they each shook their heads gravely, forcing her to face the frightening truth.

“N-No,” Buffy stammered. “It can’t be. It’s not possible. It’s a mistake. There’s just no way you two can actually have seen _Giles singing_!”

 

* * *

On Lists (3):

 

* * *

Love and Hate  
(Spike/Buffy, post-S6, PG13 - 9/22/2003)

She’d tried so hard to hate him after that horrible night in her bathroom. She’d even come up with a list, reasons why she should never have loved him. But for every con, she seemed to come up with a pro, until it all evened out:

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Violent_   
|    
_Tender_   
  
---|---  
  
_Demanding_   
|    
_Giving_   
  
  
_Cruel_   
|    
_Truthful_   
  
  
_Angry_   
|    
_Loving_   
  
  
_Unpredictable_   
|    
_Exciting_   
  
  
_Dangerous_   
|    
_Sexy_   
  
  
_Cocky_   
|    
_Insecure_   
  
  
_Impatient_   
|    
_Persistent_   
  
  
_Strong_   
|    
_Vulnerable_   
  
  
_Irritating_   
|    
_Funny_   
  
  
_Harsh_   
|    
_Kind_   
  
  
_Erratic_   
|    
_Devoted_   
  
  
_Needy_   
|    
_Comforting_   
  
  
_Brutal_   
|    
_Beautiful_   
  
  
_Complicated_   
|    
_Simple_   
  
  
All contradictions, yet they each fit him. But above all, one word meant that she could never truly hate all that Spike was:

 _Mine._

 

* * *

Vows  
(Anya, post-'Hell's Bells', R - 9/22/2003)

Anya could hardly believe that only an hour ago she’d been spinning off dozens of lists:

 _I promise to love you, Xander, forever, even if you are foolishly unwary of bunnies._

 _I’ll love you until we’re both old and wrinkly and give you orgasms even if your penis shrivels up, because our love surpasses our fragile human bodies._

 _I’ll stay with you, even if you lose that pretty apartment and move back into that smelly basement because you’ve taught me that some things are more important than money._

Now the multitude of possibilities has dried up to just one: Loneliness.

 

* * *

Listless  
(Willow, post-'Wrecked', PG13 - 9/22/2003)

She used to make lists all the time. Elaborate, detailed lists with color-coding and indexes and those little separators. On the first day of school, she’d cross-index her homework assignments and create a neat study schedule. Xander had called her an incurable (but cute) nerd and then had mooched off of her plans.

She’d hated being the ‘nerd’, though, and had done so much to deny it.

Now she composes her daily list:

 _Sleep. Barf. Don’t think about the pain. Don’t think about the loss. Barf again. Sleep._

And Willow thinks that being that nerd wasn’t so bad, after all.

 

* * *

On Wishing (2):

 

* * *

For It May Come True…  
(Spike/Buffy, 'Older And Far Away' and post-'Chosen', PG - 9/15/2003)

“C’mon, birthday girl,” Xander encouraged. “Make a wish.”

Buffy managed a plastic smile for the benefit of her friends. They surrounded her hopefully, looking for the cheerful friend they’d known before she’d died.

She suddenly felt alone in the crowd and sought out the blue eyes of the vampire hovering in the background. A hopeless wish popped to mind:

 _Could you maybe make him a man I wouldn’t be ashamed to love?_

The candles went out…  
   
 

Over a year later she stood over a crater, a tear in her eye and one thought in mind: _Should have been more specific._

 

* * *

Mortality  
(Anya/Dawn friendship, 'The Body', PG - 9/15/2003)

Anya hated this. She hated that Joyce was dead. She hated that she was mortal and would die. She hated that she was so much of an outsider that Dawn turned away from the comforting brush of her hand.

Mortality suddenly felt like a lonely, empty place, and tears brushed the corners of her eyes. Why was there no Vengeance Demon that fixed death?

“I wish she wasn’t dead.” A vain hope.

Dawn turned and smiled softly at her, understanding. “I know… Me, too.”

The first genuine affection Dawn had ever shown her. Maybe mortality wasn’t so empty after all.


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

Free Drabble (1):

 

* * *

Realization  
(Connor & Illyria, post-'Origin', PG - 4/24/2004)

Connor suspected he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Swirling memories overlapped, painting a confusing disarray that was giving him a headache. It wasn’t every day a lifetime’s worth of memories were dropped into your brain, and it was disorienting.

He turned over on his mattress in his comfortable suburban home. This was still his home, his family, even though he could see his old life just as clearly. But he still thought about his original father, that other life, the old gang…

And, belatedly, he frowned. “Wait a minute!” he exclaimed into the night. “Why is Fred _blue_?!”

 

* * *

On Sex (2):

 

* * *

That Time of the Year  
(Spike/Buffy, AU S5, NC17 - 4/24/2004)

Buffy sat on a tombstone, sighing. She was starting to believe that love was in the air in springtime. Her entire body tingled with anticipation. Only she had no one _to_ anticipate. _Defeat Glory, save the world, can’t even get a lousy date…_

And that’s when she noticed him. Spike stopped when he saw her, eyes wide, ready to turn away.

An instant’s realization. She caught him, kissed him hard, leapt up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Frantic groping, mouths and hands exploring wildly, and then, god, he was inside her and everything was _perfect_ …

Blame it on springtime.

 

* * *

First Time  
(Spike/Angelus, pre-BtVS, NC17 - 4/24/2004)

Angelus roared triumphantly as he thrust inside. He’d known this hole would be tight, unspoiled. He hadn’t anticipated that William would already be whimpering in pleasure beneath him. Apparently, his new boy was even more sensitive that Drusilla had told him. Maybe she hadn’t been as crazy for turning this one as he’d thought…

“You like it, don’t you?” he growled in William’s ear.

William whimpered, tried not to respond, but Angelus was striking something deep inside him that he’d never even imagined existed.

“Like getting deflowered good and hard…” Angelus thrust his cock roughly into William’s prostate.

Screamed. “Yes!”

 

* * *

On Anniversaries (3):

 

* * *

A Girl in the Moonlight  
(Willow, post-'Wild at Heart', PG13 - 3/29/2004)

It had begun so sweetly.

Shared moments of nerdy camaraderie. Soft blushes and meaningful looks. Long conversations and just hanging out. A first kiss, and then more. Making love…

They had faced apocalypses, but had always gotten through such trials together. Things were looking up. Willow had seen nothing but happiness ahead until she’d caught Oz naked with Veruca. Hadn’t seen it coming at all.

And, as she stood outside, gazing up at the full moon on the night of what would have been the two-year anniversary of their first date, she let the sorrow overtake her one last time.

 

* * *

Promises Forgotten  
(Joyce, pre-S1, PG - 3/29/2004)

If there had been any anger left in Joyce, she would be furious. True, the divorce wasn’t entirely finalized, but she and Hank had met just last week to discuss working things out. For Buffy’s sake.

But, when her soon-to-be-ex-husband didn’t appear, she wasn’t surprised. That Hank couldn’t show up even on their anniversary was just the final nail in the coffin. Finally time for them both to admit that their marriage was really over.

Joyce could forgive that.

What she couldn’t forgive was the look on Buffy’s face when she realized her daddy hadn’t come to visit, after all.

 

* * *

A Year Alone  
(Giles, S3, PG - 3/29/2004)

The children huddled around the library table in various stages of boredom. Occasional giggles about prom and life after graduation. Worry over the Mayor’s upcoming Ascension, quickly pushed aside by carefree youth. The Scooby Gang had each other: friendship, happiness, and even love. Even with the looming apocalypse, their hearts were light.

Giles watched them wistfully. He remembered that age, believing he would live forever. That he had limitless _time_.

He knew better now. Knew that every moment of happiness was precious, that nothing in life should be taken for granted.

Especially today, exactly one year since he’d lost Jenny…

 

* * *

On Training (3):

 

* * *

Ex-Demons  
(Spike/Illyria, post-'Shells', PG - 3/15/2004)

“I do not understand.”

“Big surprise there,” Spike grumbled, draining his bottle.

Cold, emotionless blue eyes studied him.

“Er…no offence.” Generally not wise to piss off indestructible demons.

“Why do you tolerate the humans?” Illyria inquired curiously. “You could easily rule them.”

He winced. Too drunk for this. “Tried it; got my arse kicked. Repeatedly. Easiest to just fit in.”

“Admit defeat?”

“Yup.”

“And how did you…fit in?” Blank interest.

“Ask someone else.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I practically wrote the trainin’ manual on how _not_ to fit in.”

“I asked you.”

“That, you did,” he sighed. And began…

 

* * *

On Her Own  
(Joyce, S3-ish, PG - 3/15/2004)

“Is it ruined?” Buffy held out the bloodstained shirt regretfully. Perfect annoyed teenager expression just waiting for the question they both knew Joyce wanted to ask.

Joyce suppressed her concern, not wanting to antagonize her daughter, and took the blouse. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, mom!” Buffy dashed back out into the night.

Joyce sighed. She’d read dozens of parenting books, but none had dealt with removing bloodstains and waiting anxiously through apocalypses. Buffy was out there alone, just as Joyce was on her own at home.

There was no training for how to raise a Vampire Slayer.

 

* * *

First Dance  
(Spike/Drusilla, 1880, NC17 - 3/15/2004)

Pale limbs twined intimately, flesh aflame with desire, as the two vampires embraced. William looked into his lover’s ebony eyes, cheeks flushed shyly even as his eyes betrayed that first passion unleashed.

Drusilla laughed in delight, taking his hands, guiding them across her body, teaching him how to pleasure her best. His right cupped her breast reverently, freeing her to slip her hand around his hardness.

“Inside me.” She led him to her slick opening.

Eyes squeezed shut tight, he pushed inside. Lost his virginity. “So much to learn…”

“Mommy will train you well,” she promised.

And ecstasy overcame them.

 

* * *

On Elements (7):

 

* * *

The Elements _(Link to[Tom Lehrer's 'The Elements'](http://chemlab.pc.maricopa.edu/periodic/lyrics.html))_  
(Spike/Fred, AtS S5, PG13 - 3/2/2004)

“…Tungsten, tin, and sodium!” Fred sang the last line with a flourish, giggling as she bowed to her stunned audience.

Spike stared at her, agape and quite frightened. “Where on earth…?”

“We used to sing it all the time back in school. Between labs when we were waiting for the results,” Fred quickly interpreted his horrified question. “Actually, we made up our own version, with all the elements in reverse order. Want me to sing that, too?” she asked with false innocence.

Spike merely shook his head. “You win. You’re _definitely_ more annoyin’ than me when you want to be…”

 

* * *

Light and Dark  
(Spike/Buffy, S6, R - 3/2/2004)

Shuddering, Spike collapsed, forehead cradled against Buffy’s neck. She stroked his platinum hair tenderly. Her other hand was still clasped tightly in his, each clutching the other.

Their linked hands mesmerized her. They were light and dark, she a creature of day and he of night. But their hands were the opposite. The moon’s caresses had made his skin a perfect, pale alabaster, while hers was a deep, dark tan from the beach. Like the line between light and dark was fading, mixing with new layers of complexities.

And she smiled at the beautiful shades of gray they were creating.

 

* * *

Fire and Ice _(Link to[Robert Frost's 'Fire and Ice'](http://www.literature-web.net/frost/744))_  
(Spike/Buffy, S6, NC17 - 3/1/2004)

 _Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice…_

Right now, Buffy didn’t know which way her world ended. Every place Spike’s skin touched hers burned like the two of them were melting into one being. But sharp ice pierced her womb, chilled limbs held her. His lips on her throat were cold but warming fast, lapping up her sweet blood.

Oh, the world was ending with both fire and ice, but _what_ a way to go! And, her orgasm crashing over her, Buffy knew she’d get to discover how the world ended over and over again.

 

* * *

Earth  
(Spike/Buffy, S6, NC17 - 3/1/2004)

Buffy woke in a cold sweat, still clawing for the earth that buried her alive.

Her nightmare woke Spike beside her. “What’s wrong, luv?” he asked, concerned.

A sharp laugh. “And they say the earth is supposed to be all kind and motherly…” She shivered.

Instantly, his arms were wrapped around her bare body, cradling her in his arms. “Had the dream again?”

She nodded numbly against his strong chest.

“Anythin’ I can do?”

“Make love to me? Remind me that I’m still alive…”

“My pleasure.” He slipped inside her, and her pain faded as he filled her with love.

 

* * *

Air  
(Spike/Buffy, post-AtS S5, NC17 - 3/1/2004)

Spike figured he should probably feel guilty about this. After all, Peaches had leant him this flying deathtrap in a goodwill gesture…or, at least, in a make-Spike-go-as-far-away-as-possible gesture. But, really, it was Angel’s own fault for not knowing _exactly_ what Spike would do with it…

“Oh god!” Buffy moaned, clutching his head to her breast and urging him to suck harder. “Missed you so much…”

“Missed you, too, luv.” He crawled up her body, situating himself between her spread thighs.

She smiled seductively. “Let’s rock the air.”

“Welcome to the Mile High Club.” He smirked before thrusting home. Hard.

 

* * *

Water  
(Spike/Buffy, post-S6, NC17 - 3/1/2004)

Buffy opened her eyes when the water sloshed around her. She sighed at the breathtaking view. He was so beautiful, completely naked, and long and hard all for her. She felt a wetness between her thighs that had nothing to do with the Jacuzzi and everything to do with _him_.

“Ever done it in water?” Spike inquired, kneeling before her and cocking his head to one side in that way that she found irresistible.

Smiling contentedly, she slipped into his lap, straddling his thighs. “Yup,” she agreed, rising just enough to impale herself on his erection, “…as of right now…”

 

* * *

Fire  
(Spike/Buffy, 'Smashed', NC17 - 3/1/2004)

Had it only been last week that she’d wanted the fire back? Buffy couldn’t imagine now that she’d ever not felt this burning passion.

Her lips plundered Spike’s harshly, tasting him. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth in response, just as his cock thrust right into the hidden fires within her, stoking them back to life. Sweaty, naked limbs tangled, and she’d never felt this _hot_.

Head thrown back in desire, she surrendered to this wild lust for her newest lover. “Make me burn!” she cried out before her orgasm overcame her.

“Burn me up…” Spike came with her.

 

* * *

On Unintentional Confessions (3):

 

* * *

Foot-In-Mouth Disease  
(Spike/Buffy, AU S6-ish, PG13 - 3/1/2004)

“This is gonna be good. I can tell.” Buffy crossed her arms defensively.

Eyes widening frantically, Spike leapt back from the underwear drawer. Buffy’s blue silk panties fluttered to the floor. “I can explain!”

“Uh-huh.”

“See, this girl at the Bronze—”

“Girl?” Eyes narrowed.

“How was I s’posed to know she’d kiss me?”

“You _kissed_ her?!” Red-hot anger.

“And the knickers, they just…” He trailed off at her expression.

“Just keep digging yourself in deeper,” she retorted sarcastically.

“’S not what it sounds like,” he insisted.

“Oh?”

“I love you.”

A wicked smile. “Then you’d better prove it. Fast.”

 

* * *

Sister Talk  
(Buffy and Dawn, post-'Crush', PG13 - 3/1/2004)

“Ugh.” Buffy paused, considered again, shuddered. “Ugh.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “What’s the big deal? The hottest guy in town totally wants you and all you can do is freak out?”

“Vampires are _never_ ‘hot’,” Buffy insisted sternly.

“‘Oh, Angel’s the hunkiest piece of manmeat ever!’” Dawn teased.

“That’s different.”

“How? Plus, Spike’s _way_ cuter. Not to mention hung like a stallion.” An ‘eep’ followed the comment.

Pure horror. “You saw—?!”

“It was accidental!” Dawn insisted. “I didn’t know he was in the shower and… It was just a quick peek, honest!”

Eyes narrowed. “That’s it. You’re grounded… _forever_.”

 

* * *

Too Much (And Not Enough) Information  
(Spike/Buffy, S5, PG13 - 3/1/2004)

“Spike!” Buffy burst in with typical bravado. “I need information—”

“Yes, luv?” he purred, stretching languorously.

Buffy stood in stunned silence. Somehow she’d never caught him like this before. Shirtless, hair ruffled from sleep, duster absent to give her a perfect look at that tight ass beneath his jeans. How could she _not_ have noticed Spike’s salty goodness earlier?

“D-Demon…info… How can I talk when your butt is so cute?” she despaired before squeaking when she realized she’d spoken out loud.

“Care for the full view?” he teased, smirking when she fled blushing. _Oh yeah, still got it._

 

* * *

On Doorways (3):

 

* * *

Trapped Between Life And Death  
(Spike/Fred, pre-'Hellbound', PG13 - 2/9/2004)

Spike almost smiled when he walked through the lab’s wall to find Fred asleep at her desk, head pillowed on delicate arms, back rising slowly with deep breaths. His hand reached out to touch her hair. Passed right through, of course.

An irritated sigh. He’d been undead for over a century, caught between life and death and perfectly happy with it. But this…

Like one stubborn foot was wedged in the doorway of existence, not letting him experience life but offering painful glimpses. It was unbearable. Almost enough to break him.

But not quite.

“Thanks to you, pet,” he whispered.

 

* * *

A Threshold Kiss  
(Spike/Buffy, pre-'Dead Things', PG13 - 2/9/2004)

Spike regretted coming already. A part of him wanted to belong with the happy Christmas cheer, but _she’d_ seen that he would never fit in.

Buffy gulped, but played host and took his coat. Hand brushed his thigh discreetly.

Xander chuckled.

Buffy looked up, blushed at the mistletoe.

He almost left, then. Didn’t want her to call him a monster, even as she crawled into his bed nightly…

The brush of her lips stunned him. Brief peace as he melted into her kiss before her friends. But it ended. Only treated like a man for one moment in the doorway.

 

* * *

Door Between Worlds  
(Dawn, 'The Gift', PG13 - 2/9/2004)

The pain had been intense, but was receding now. Like she could feel her body fading away into nothing, giving way to its true form.

Tear-streaked eyes saw doors opening all around, monsters emerging more horrible than anything she’d imagined. Before, she would have been terrified. But they couldn’t hurt her. She wasn’t human anymore, a scared little girl or anything of the mortal realm.

She was their doorway, the gate between worlds, the Key.

And, as Dawn felt her consciousness finally rip away into nothingness, she let out one last sob before bursting into a flame of green energy.

 

* * *

On [Word of the Day](http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/) (5):

 

* * *

Serendipity  
 _The faculty or phenomenon of making fortunate accidental discoveries._  
(Spike/Buffy, post-'Crush', NC17 - 2/1/2004)

Spike didn’t consider himself particularly lucky. He’d fought through unlife, and that night, disinvited from the Summers’ home, was as unfortunate as it got.

Until he’d peeked in her window.

“Deeper! Yes! _Spike_!”

Jaw dropped, amazed, as a naked Buffy writhed on her sheets, three fingers buried in her cunt, head thrown back in wild, sexual abandon.

“Enjoyin’ me, luv?” he purred, smiling wickedly.

Buffy clutched the blanket to her chest, flushed with embarrassment. Realized she was caught, and slowly smiled. “Come in?” she breathed needily.

He crossed the broken barrier, upon her instantly. Oh yes, this was serendipity, indeed…

 

* * *

Restive  
 _Resisting control; stubborn._  
(Spike/Fred, post-'Soul Purpose', PG13 - 2/1/2004)

Spike calls Buffy a ‘stubborn bint’, but Fred thinks _he’s_ the stubborn one. Always does the opposite of whatever Angel asks, jumps headlong into danger, never looks beyond a certain slayer despite other available options.

When she goes to his place, he scrambles to hide his books, acting the Big Bad. Doesn’t matter that she’s not fooled, and he _knows_ it. Pig-headed creature.

So she shows him one night. Lips brutally plunder his, fingers clutch his hair so he can’t escape. Tackles him onto the bed. And, when he yields so wonderfully, she realizes he likes losing that control, too…

 

* * *

Claque  
 _A group of fawning admirers._  
(Cordelia, early S2, PG - 2/1/2004)

“Gucci is dead.” Cordelia rolls her eyes. “Prada’s in.”

“Totally.” “Gucci? As _if_!” Automatic agreements followed by expectant looks.

“It’s, like, so _pathetic_ how completely clueless this town is,” she complains. “Think of the fashion image we’re sending to the _world_ , people!”

Cordelia’s gaze turns automatically to Xander, smile faltering briefly. He’s dancing happily with his friends. Not afraid of their constant judgment; just accepted for who he is. She feels a pang of jealousy before shaking it off. After all she’s got her admirers…

“What is it, gay Hawaiian t-shirt day?” she insults him instead, snorting in feigned disgust.

 

* * *

Stanch  
 _To stop the flowing of; to check._  
(Spike/Tara, AU 'Seeing Red', PG13 - 2/1/2004)

“Tara!” he cries in horror as the bullet pierces her chest.

She watches, shocked, as the red stain blossoms outward.

Before she hits the floor, Spike’s lunged forward and caught her in his arms. Her heartbeat’s fading; nothing will stop the flow of blood in time. Except…

Damning the consequences, his lips cover the wound, drinking her life’s blood. Slices his wrist and holds it to her lips. He thinks he’s too late until he feels one slow suck.

She’s gone then, and he’s stopped the blood. Only to create a new beast who will make it flow for eternity…

 

* * *

Portend  
 _To foreshadow; to bode._  
(Spike/Drusilla, pre-S2, R - 2/1/2004)

“Pretty little girl.” Drusilla’s hair fell over her shoulder like a midnight cascade, concealing one supple breast. “All golden and pure…”

“Tonight’s dinner?” Spike guessed lazily.

Dru tisked, shaking her head. “In _here_.” Her hand rested over his heart, tracing his smooth chest muscles.

He purred and pulled her close. “That’s where _you_ are.”

An angry swipe of her nails left five red gashes over his heart. “ _Mine_!” she screeched vehemently.

“Yours,” he promised. “Always yours, pet.”

A whimper as she relaxed into his arms. “Why must the portends come? Even when I don’t want them…”

“Shh, just ignore them.”

 

* * *

On Not My Usual (3):

 

* * *

Slayer-in-Training in Waiting  
(Kennedy, Vi, & Molly, pre-'Bring on the Night', PG13 - 1/19/2004)

“Girls, this is Vi,” Giles announced matter-of-factly before fleeing the room which housed his growing horde of teenage charges.

“’lo there,” Molly offered, munching on her chips as she watched the television.

Vi smiled nervously. “H-Hi.”

“I’m Kennedy,” the dark-skinned brunette offered, giving Vi the quick once-over.

“Vi.” Vi sat uncomfortably on the edge of the chair in the corner.

“We’re pretty crowded. But I suppose you can have the couch,” Kennedy offered, “unless you’d like to share the bed with me?”

“Lay off,” Molly interrupted. “She’s straight.”

Kennedy pouted. “You are?”

Vi nodded wide-eyed.

“Just my continuing bad luck…”

 

* * *

Passionate Dislike  
(Gunn/Eve, post-'Destiny', NC17 - 1/19/2004)

“Don’t think you’re fooling me,” Gunn informed her coldly. “I’m still going to find out what you’re up to.”

Eve gasped as he thrust deep within her, nails clawing the surface of his desk. “So arrogant,” she gave him that wicked smile that made him want to rip her in two. He settled for reaming her even harder. “Gets a few _enhancements_ and suddenly thinks he knows what’s going on…”

He caught her mouth in a bruising kiss. “Shut. Up,” he ordered gruffly before returning to his pleasure.

“Fuck yeah,” Eve moaned, lying back and giving in. Just this once.

 

* * *

Where It Hurts  
(Faith & Cordelia, post-'Consequences', PG13 - 1/19/2004)

Cordelia screeched at the library intruder.

“What’s the matter, girlfriend?” Faith seemed unconcerned.

“Maybe that there’s a _psycho_ in here?” Cordelia snapped.

Faith sneered. “Someone should teach you to hold your tongue.”

Cordelia snorted derisively. “You? Puh- _lease_! I’m not fooled by your tough act, little girl…”

“Little girl?” Wicked smugness curved her lips. “I was woman enough for Xander.”

Cordelia’s breath caught. “Liar,” she hissed, masking the pain.

“Ask him. If your ex will still give you the time of day, that is.” Faith stalked confidently to the door.

“Bitch.”

“And that’s what Xander kept screaming,” Faith retorted in parting.

 

* * *

On Crossovers (4):

 

* * *

Abnormal Again, Part One  
(Buffy, 'Normal Again', PG - 1/11/2004)

Even as Buffy struggled, the demon’s sharp stinger pierced her leg. The world blurred, like a dream, before she woke to bright lights overhead, gray ceiling, smiling redhead beside her…

“What happened?”

“Calm down,” the woman – doctor? – soothed. “You’ve been hallucinating from the isothorizonic virus.”

“Huh?” Buffy blinked. “Whatever. I’ve got to kill that demon, so—”

“That wasn’t real,” the doctor stopped her. “I know it’s difficult to accept right now, but you’re aboard the Starship Enterprise—”

“Enterprise?”

A nod. “Your ship’s counselor.”

“I’m on _Star Trek_?!” Buffy exclaimed indignantly. “Okay, that’s it! Those nerds are going _down_!”

* * *

Abnormal Again, Part Two  
(The Trio, 'Normal Again', PG - 1/11/2004)

The Trio watched the television, expressions blissful.

“Buffy Summers in a unitard…” Jonathan sighed.

“Buffy Summers as Deanna Troi…” Warren agreed dreamily.

Andrew gloated at the demon he’d summoned. “This is, unquestioningly, our best evil scheme _ever_.”

“Hey!” Warren protested, ready to defend his own plans.

However, Jonathan screeched. “What’s she doing?”

“Beverly!” Andrew cried, horrified, as his precious doctor collapsed.

“Good, here’s Worf… Ouch! Body-slam!”

“Data can take her.” A wince. “Or not…”

“Doesn’t she know it’s supposed to be a world of peace and diplomacy?” Andrew sniffed in horror.

“Quick,” Warren agreed, “get her out of there _now_.”

 

* * *

Strange Occurrences in Southern California  
(The Mayor, post-S3, PG - 1/11/2004)

The car stopped before the condemned site of Sunnydale High School. No one was present to see the tall man and the redheaded woman get out, however.

Dana Scully removed her sunglasses, surveying the wreckage. “You’re right, Mulder,” she commented with a hint of dry sarcasm. “This certainly couldn’t have been a gas explosion…”

“And the photographs of giant snake remains?”

“Dozens of snake species are—”

“Six-feet in diameter and three-hundred feet long? The locals’ reticence—”

“To suspicious-sounding FBI inquiries?” she countered.

“Scoff all you like,” Mulder retorted, “but I’m going to find out what _really_ happened here…”

 

* * *

Audition  
(Harmony, pre-AtS S5, PG13 - 1/11/2004)

“Harmony Kendall.” The audition board assessed the perky blonde.

“Hi,” Harmony waved. She giggled excitedly before remembering to compose herself, restraining enthusiastic hands behind her back.

“Miss Kendall,” the head interviewer began, “why should you be America’s Next Top Model?”

“Well, I’m _totally_ an expert on fashion, I’ve got a winning personality, and I could _so_ —”

“She’s too fat,” one interviewer interrupted.

Harmony’s smile fell. “D-Did you call me ‘fat’?!” she screeched indignantly.

“I’m sorry,” the head interviewer apologized. “But you’re not what we’re looking for.”

Eyes flashed yellow. “You’re throwing _me_ out?! Oh, I’m gonna eat you alive…”

 

* * *

On Title Swaps (9):

 

* * *

Dead Man’s Party  
(Angel, Lorne, & Fred, 'Life of the Party', PG13 - 1/5/2004)

Excited gasps rippled through the crowd as Angel tackled the huge green monster that had once been their host. With a cry of alarm, a female T’Renga Demon leapt right up into the arms of the vampire behind her, squealing as the deadly alcohol splashed only inches from where her feet had been. The vampire, arms full of succulent sex-demoness, grinned at his companion.

“That’s why I love these Wolfram and Hart shindigs,” he announced, pausing momentarily to cheer when some woman injected the hulk-like creature, turning him back to normal. “Dead men sure do know how to throw parties…”

 

* * *

I Robot, You Jane  
(Spike, Buffybot, & Warren, 'Intervention', PG13 - 1/5/2004)

“I Robot, you Jane.”

Spike’s scarred eyebrow rose. “I want a refund, mate.”

Warren squirmed. “It’s just a glitch in her role-playing protocols,” he promised, flicking off the bot and popping the hatch to attach his computer.

“A glitch?” Spike sounded incredulous.

“Well, she _is_ a robot, and the back-up program for her AI had all the books of Isaac Asimov listed under the basic knowledge file…”

“So why does she keep calling me Jane?” Spike demanded.

“Tarzan RPGing.”

“And why would she be playin’ Tarzan?”

“Gender-reversal?”

A disgusted look crossed Spike’s face. “You are one sick wanker,” he announced.

 

* * *

Welcome to the Hellmouth  
(Spike/Dru, 'School Hard', PG13 - 1/5/2004)

Spike’s foot hit the gas and, tires screeching, the old black DeSoto crashed through the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign. An equally loud screech of brakes, and the car came to a halt, a devil-may-care grin on its driver’s face.

The jarring motion woke Drusilla, and she stirred in the back seat. “Did daddy hit a tasty treat?”

An apologetic look crossed his face when he realized his wanton destruction had disturbed her. “Not unless you fancy twisted metal.”

She yawned. “Where are we? Somewhere sweet?”

A wicked smile. “Welcome to the Hellmouth, luv. And the end to all our problems…”

 

* * *

Tabula Rasa  
(Buffy & Giles, 'Dead Man's Party', PG - 1/5/2004)

The last frightened guests had left, the ambulances took away casualties, and they’d made sure the zombies were gone for good. It had been an eye-opener to Joyce as to the life of a Slayer.

But now they sat in the Summers’ moderately-destroyed living room and were trying to talk through their anger. Never an easy task.

After hearing Buffy’s story, Giles sighed and sat back. “Perhaps we should attempt a _tabula rasa_.”

“We’re raising what now?” Buffy blinked.

“ _Tabula rasa_ ,” he repeated with a roll of his eyes. “A ‘blank slate’. Start all over again.”

A grateful smile. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

Harsh Light Of Day  
(Buffy, 'Chosen', PG13 - 1/5/2004)

Buffy had always enjoyed the California sunshine. She’d thrived on it during her pre-Slayer years, tanned on the beach and gossiped with her friends about boys. As the Slayer, daylight had been stripped from her. Her lovers’ inevitable allergies and her work had kept her wrapped within the cool dark of night. But she’d still aspired to the sun, convinced herself it was what she wanted.

Now, as she stands above the ruins of Sunnydale and the memorial to her lost love, she stands bright in the sunshine. And finally sees the harsh light of day for what it is…

 

* * *

Bad Eggs  
(Spike, 'As You Were', R - 1/5/2004)

Spike stared numbly at the burned-out shell of his home, his _life_. Everything was covered by thick black soot, only now looking like a crypt to him. Even more because his heart had just been so cruelly ripped from his chest.

 _“It’s killing me.”_

Only now was the inevitable reply sinking in: _Then I have nothing left to live for…_

Even the memories were destroyed. Crumbled to dust were all the places she’d made love to him – no, never made love…fucked him like the beast he was…

Nothing left now.

And all because she’d found a few bad eggs.

 

* * *

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date  
(Dawn, 'All the Way', PG13 - 1/5/2004)

Adrenaline rushing through her veins, Dawn ran. She could hear the sounds of the fight. Her sister taking care of all those other vamps. But no one was there to help her as she was chased down by the boy she’d been kissing only minutes before.

She stumbled and he tackled her, squeezed her eyes shut tight and didn’t dare look as her stake pierced his chest, turning him to dust.

She sat up shakily, a deep emptiness inside. What was that advice Buffy had given her? _Never kill a boy on the first date._ Maybe she should start listening…

 

* * *

I Was Made To Love You  
(Maggie Walsh & Adam, 'The I in Team', R - 1/5/2004)

Maggie Walsh seethed. What _right_ did Buffy have to ruin her life’s work? Ungrateful, blind little valley-girl. She had practically _felt_ that vapid blonde head crushed in her trap. Why couldn’t the Slayer have died? Then her hard work would be saved, she’d still have Riley, and…

She brushed such trivial thoughts aside. She’d finally built the perfect son, this one made to always love her. She smiled as her creation stirred to life, looked into her eyes for the first time…

Smile faded into horror as the spike pierced her back.

“Mother,” Adam said, already savoring his first kill.

 

* * *

Lies My Mother Told Me  
(Buffy & Joyce, 'Earshot', PG13 - 1/5/2004)

“Oh god.” Buffy wished she could wash her mind out with soap.

“I know it’s difficult to accept,” Joyce began hesitantly, “but, Buffy, I _am_ an adult which means—”

“Accepting? Of the bad,” Buffy decided. “And it’s not like you _told_ me! I mean, no daughter should ever have to _see_ —”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Joyce defended herself, “but it was just magical candy and I had no way of knowing that you’d turn telepathic—”

“Mom!” Buffy cut her off, shuddering. “You had sex with _Giles_! There’s no _way_ I’m not traumatized for life!”

 

* * *

On Unconventional (4):

 

* * *

Party Demons  
(Clem & Lorne, late S7, PG - 12/29/2003)

Clem’s ears bounced happily at the nightclub’s pulsing beat. The Hellmouth might devour the world tomorrow, but _what_ a killer party to go out with! Coming to LA just might have been his smartest move yet.

“Swingest party in town, am I right, crinkles?”

Clem grinned at the green-skinned demon. “Always go out with a bang.”

“Knew there had to be some demon with a sense of fun still.” Lorne rolled his eyes. “You should see my boss pre-apocalypse.”

“Sounds like my pal back of the Hellmouth.”

Lorne raised his glass. “To demons who still know how to _par-tee_.”

“Amen.”

 

* * *

Dark Leanings  
(Darla & Riley, post-'Into the Woods', R - 12/29/2003)

He’d promised himself he would stop after leaving Sunnydale. The only reason he’d gone to vamps at all was because of Buffy. No reason to bother now.

But the blonde vampiress at the bar is beautiful, and he’s leaving LA for the jungle tomorrow. Just one last quickie…

“Buy you a drink?” He sits beside her at the bar.

She gives him an impertinent look, knowing instantly exactly what he is.

“Riley Finn,” he offers, gesturing to the back room.

“Darla.” She nods. Leads the way.

Stupid boy thinks she’s a weak fledgling, tries to stake her. Never wakes again.

 

* * *

You _Can_ Find Love In A Demon Bar In Santa Fe  
(Harmony/Lyle, post S7, PG13 - 12/28/2003)

She sniffed into her bottle, and he wasn’t heartless. Moved closer.

“What’s got a pretty little thing like you sobbing in a place like this?” he inquired friendly-like, gesturing to the dive around them.

She wiped her eyes. “T-The Slayer. She stole my boyfriend’s heart a-and now... Now he’s dust!” More sobs.

“Aw, there there, darlin’,” he patted her hand. “Lost my wife to a Slayer a coupla years back. Know just how you feel.”

“Y-You do?” she looked up hopefully.

He tipped his cowboy hat. “Lyle Gorch, pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

She blushed. “Harmony Kendell.” And smiled back.

 

* * *

Unshackled  
(Spike/Oz, 'The Initiative', NC17 - 12/28/2003)

Somehow, in all the chaos of the Hellmouth, they’ve never met face-to-face before. Ironic that now they should, one leaving and one finally staying. Sort of a changing of the guard. But both seek the same thing that night.

Oz feels his control slipping, the shackles he’s placed around the beast within breaking…

Spike’s chained for the first time, the raging demon trapped…

They both need this. Oz to surrender to the wildness and Spike to reclaim his power for one moment. The chip doesn’t flare for werewolves, he realizes, grinning, as naked limbs entwine and he thrusts in deep…

 

* * *

On Winter/Steam (3):

 

* * *

Hot and Cold  
(Spike/Buffy, post-'Chosen', NC17 - 12/22/2003)

Buffy’s rolled her eyes when he’d said she ran hot and cold. Now she could feel the agony herself. Overcome by fiery passion one minute, chilled the next…

“Please?” she moaned, the winter air sending goosebumps over her bare flesh.

Grinning triumphantly, he covered her body with his. She knew he didn’t have body heat, but when he pushed inside her so hard and deep, his skin felt like molten volcanic steam. Wonderful…

Lazy eyes opened to see her long-lost vampire, face twisted in pleasure as he made love to her, and she screamed in passion: “I love you, Spike.”

 

* * *

Hunter’s Moon  
(Oz, pre-'New Moon Rising', PG13 - 12/22/2003)

The icy wind whistled through the mountain peaks, and Oz anticipated the winter chill. The Tibetan monks had taught him well, however, and all he felt was some intellectual curiosity when he actually didn’t feel the cold at all. Mind over matter.

He gazed over the snowscape, eyes focused on the bright light in the midnight sky. The full moon that had ripped from him his humanity, his control, and everything he held dear.

He was free from it now, but even he worried that it was too late, and he’d already lost the woman who warmed his heart: _Willow…_

 

* * *

To Touch Again  
(Spike/Fred, 'Hellbound', R - 12/22/2003)

The shower steam beaded on Fred’s skin, tantalizing droplets rolling down her curves. The glass fogged over, but didn’t completely conceal this seductive nymph.

Spike gulped. Didn’t mean to spy. Just frightened – terrified, really – now that they couldn’t see him anymore. It made him question his sanity, his existence…

But if he could sneak peeks at treats like this, it wasn’t so bad… He watched her, worries forgotten at this beautiful vision, the desire to _touch_ suddenly becoming overwhelming.

He leaned forward…and his hand left a print on the steamed glass. He _could_ touch, and all thanks to her.


	3. Chapter 3

Drabble Requests (2):

* * *

Hot  
(Spike & Buffy, S6 AU, R - 5/13/2006)

  
“Do you miss her?”  
   
A low growl rumbled through Spike’s throat at where Buffy was leaning over the research table, sweet little bum in the shortest jean skirt imaginable waggling at him teasingly. “You even hafta ask?” He closed in on his prey.  
   
“What?” Buffy’s head jerked up in surprise from where she had been studying Giles’ old sketches of Drusilla. “You—”  
   
Spike pounced, abruptly cutting off her words.  
   
Several hours and a very sore ass later, Buffy murmured contentedly against one very naked vampire chest. “It was a legitimate question,” she insisted stubbornly.  
   
“And you got your answer.”

* * *

  


Some Horrors Transcend Magic and Memory  
(Giles/Anya, TRAA-verse, PG - 5/13/2006)

   


“But, why?” Rupert asked the woman curled up in his lap, curiously. “If you can’t remember…”

  
  


“I-I can’t explain it.” Anya stared into the fire, shivering nonetheless. “I just _know_ …” Another shiver. “Something bad will happen. Horrible. _Evil_. Promise me, Rupert. You’ll stay away from them?”

  
  


There were many things Rupert didn’t know, especially now that he’d lost a lifetime. But one thing he _did_ know was trusting Anya implicitly had never led him astray. “I promise,” he offered easily, brushing his lips against her hair. “I’ll stay away from all the Easter Bunnies at the corner store.”

  
  


“Thank god…”

  


* * *

Icons (13):

* * *

How Not To Do Research  
(Spike & Buffy, mid-S4, PG - 4/19/2005)

“So unfair,” Buffy pouted. “We’re stuck reading moldy old books, and Spike gets to do whatever he wants?”

Spike glared at her from the couch, where he was flipping through TV channels mindlessly. “Yeah, ‘cause shackin’ up with the Watcher’s such a bundle of laughs.”

“I say, if we have to put up with your big mouth, we should make you research.”

He grabbed the nearest tome, reading aloud, “‘Complete exsanguination rituals for beginning…’ This is actually neat – Hey!”

Buffy snatched the book away. “New rule: Evil vampires can’t research.”

He grinned, and she was suddenly suspicious he’d just won.

* * *

Kissing Lessons  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5, PG13 - 4/19/2005)

“I see no purpose to this exercise.” Illyria stood, strong and immovable, in full Divine Posture.

“’S the ante to pay for the better stuff.” Spike eyed her body in a way that made her unconsciously soften.

Her eyes narrowed, but she finally agreed. “Very well. You may attach your labral appendages to my own.”

“Then we’ll work on your bedroom talk,” he decided. And kissed her.

Illyria considered the sensations. Concluded they were not unpleasant. “Later,” she informed him when he pulled away. “For now, we shall further practice this ‘kissing’.” And she seized him to do just that.

* * *

In the Arms of Midnight  
(Spike/Buffy/Dru, 'Crimson Codex'-verse, R - 4/19/2005)

Spike lay back, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. To his right, Buffy was sucking softly at his hip, drawing the blood to the surface. To his left, Drusilla’s tongue swirled around his nipple. Cool, wet mouths on his hard flesh. He was still warm from his latest kill, and they drank in his heat. Then they were _literally_ drinking him, two pairs of fangs moving deep inside him. He groaned, let them consume him, finally looked up with lazy eyes to see his two mistresses had met, their mouths locked in heated passion.

Oh yes, unlife was good.

* * *

Harsh Mistress  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5, PG13 - 4/18/2005)

Illyria’s heel ground into Spike’s throat. “You shall lick my boot,” she informed him smugly, savoring his grunts of discomfort.

He glowered at her, ever disobedient. “Like hell I—”

A warning pressure to his larynx quieted him.

Eyes blazing furiously, he leaned in…

Her shell’s belly tightened as his pink tongue flicked out, lapping at her boot like a kitten with cream. His submissive purr heightened the sensation. For a moment, she relaxed…

And he instantly took advantage, tackling her to the floor beneath him.

“Playful pet,” she mused, amused. And let him be on top. Just this once.

* * *

Blood-Red Hearts  
(Spike/Dru, pre-series, NC17 - 4/18/2005)

Their dance amidst the carnage was slow and languid. Bare feet slipped on blood-streaked tile, but gracefully retained their macabre steps. Spike purred as Dru dipped her finger in the pool beneath one body, came back with a crimson fingertip, and proceeded to trace his contours with the human’s life. Down his chest, over his abdomen, and around his cock, she went. He responded with kisses, tongue long and rough against her nipples.

In the corner, the last survivor tried to crawl away. Absentmindedly, Dru kicked him in the forehead, crushing his skull. Tonight was for immortal lovers alone. Forever.

* * *

So Very Stoned  
(Spike/Dru, 1960s, PG13 - 4/18/2005)

Spike felt giddy from all the warm, unsuspecting human flesh. All about, mortals danced and made love and inhaled a great many substances that made them perfectly unable to deal with the predator in their midst. Dru was on her own tonight, which meant this ripe hunting ground was all _his_.

Eyes honed in on a plump brunette with a flower in her hair, he moved in for the kill…

“Hey, man,” another soon-to-be-dinner interrupted him. “Got a light?”

Spike shrugged. Sunk his teeth in.

* * *

Drusilla returned home, full and satiated. With a purr, she slunk into the bedroom, and… found it empty. Frowning, she followed the bond between her and her Spike, dashing through the streets in the last minutes before dawn.

She found him, lying on a futon in amidst a field of humans, loud music blaring in the background. Colored rainbows swirled about his head, blinding him to the danger. “Must return home before the nasty sun comes,” she chided him.

He looked up at her dazedly. “No worries… I can walk _between_ the sunbeams…”

With a sigh, she slung him over her shoulder and carried him off to bed. “You, my pet, are so very stoned.”

* * *

Beneath You…Later  
(Spike/Buffy, AU 'Beneath You', R - 4/18/2005)

“From beneath you, it devours.”

Buffy followed his gesture. Except her eyes stalled halfway down. Ominous portends aside, Spike was obviously happy to see her again. Yum.

“Okay,” she took his hand, “but last time I tried that you kicked me out.”

He frowned, baffled by her apparent non-sequitur.

“Right. Don’t confuse the raving vampire with the rat-nest hair and the emo-goth get-up.” She pulled him upstairs; he resisted. “C’mon, let’s get out of the basement of craziness and back home. Then I’ll devour you from beneath all you want.”

 _That_ he understood. And complied with her wishes most wholeheartedly.

* * *

And Then, The Oral Sex!  
(Riley & Giles, 'Buffy vs. Dracula' & Monty Python and the Holy Grail, PG13 - 4/18/2005)

“Come on, Mister Giles, let’s get out of here,” Riley urged, grabbing the Watcher’s elbow and pulling him away from the Cellar Of Doom and Dracula’s mistresses.

“Look,” Giles insisted, trying to pull away, “let me go back in there and face the peril.”

“No, it’s too perilous. Now, we’ve got to find Buffy. Come on!”

“Oh, let me have just a little bit of peril?” Giles managed to whine in full stuffy British accent.

“No.” Riley shook his head in disbelief, glancing back at the three fanged monsters. “It’s unhealthy.”

Giles sulked. “I bet you’re gay.”

“No, I’m not!”

* * *

Anything Good

(Spike, post-'As You Were', PG13 - 4/18/2005)

Contrary to popular opinion, Spike wasn’t stupid. Of course, he’d thought about it, reached one inescapable conclusion: All his fault.

Cecily didn’t want him because he’d been beneath her.

Dru didn’t want him because he’d been fascinated by the enemy.

Harm didn’t want him because he’d been above her.

And Buffy… just hadn’t wanted _him_.

And the last was the worst. He hadn’t hidden himself, just showed her who he was, who he could be, and she hadn’t seen anything worthwhile. Not cut out for love at all. So, he did the only thing he’d ever done right: He drank.

* * *

Brief Glimpse  
(Spike/Buffy, mid-S6, NC17 - 4/18/2005)

She can feel it when he’s this deep inside her. She wraps her legs around his waist, clutching at him, desperate for closeness. The rhythm of his hips is punishing, passionate, tender. He stretches her boundaries, and she accommodates him, holding him inside. She can feel his love in those moments, feel it consuming her, wiping away the anguish of this world. It’s in his eyes, the needy whispers from his lips, the curve of his throat. She feels pleasure and completion of this new heaven roll over her and can do nothing but scream his name in ecstasy.

“Spike!”

* * *

Twin  
(Spike & The First, 'Lessons', R - 4/18/2005)

He knows he shouldn’t. Dark faces in the dark whisper to him, tell him horrible things.  Things he’s done, lives he’s ended ripping at his psyche, seeking well-deserved revenge.

He deserves punishment; the voices tell him that. But one is different. One wears a mask he’s never seen, for lack of a tarnished reflection, but knows better than any other. A pretty demon, whispering dark sins. And try to resist as he might, it’s never long before those alluring demonic features compel him, and he touches himself, comes over the cold basement floor, his own murderous name on his lips.

 

* * *

Ride Me  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5, PG13 - 4/18/2005)

“Hop on, pet.” Spike patted the seat behind him encouragingly.

Illyria tilted her head, unconvinced. “Your obsession with motorized vehicles is both trivial and irrational. This ‘bike’ you speak so fondly of is nothing more than bits and scraps of metal, hammered together by imperfect mortal hands.” She made a face. “That, and it whines like an insect.”

“Thought you liked bugs.”

“Mollusks,” Illyria corrected. “Insects lack the majestic tentacular appendages of my former—”

“Just get on, all right?”

She considered the vibrating machine, her pretty pet upon it. Reached the only logical conclusion. “I would rather ride _you_.”

* * *

Why Won’t You People Let Me Wear Pants?  
(Spike & Gang, 'Older and Far Away', PG13 - 4/18/2005)

 

“This is _not_ funny!”

Buffy giggled. “Not funny. More like…”

“ _Hot_ ,” Tara interjected, words slurred from too much beer.

“Tara!” Willow exclaimed before reconsidering. “Okay, point.”

“Guys,” Dawn popped in. “Are you done playing strip—? Whoa.”

“That’s it!” Spike held up a couch cushion over his bits. “Give ‘em back, Slayer.”

“Yes, Buffy,” Xander said, face hidden behind his hand. “ _Please_ , give them back.”

Sophie shook her head tipsily. “I’m arel-aler- _allergic_ to givinemback.”

Spike glared at the prize Buffy dangled before him, only to have it snatched back once more. “Dammit! Why won’t you people let me wear pants?”

* * *

Blood (1):

* * *

Demon Blood  
(Spike/Illyria, post-'Not Fade Away', NC17 - 8/31/2004)

There are times when he thinks they love each other. Their bodies come together, his hips thrusting deep, her channel clenching around him in climax. That’s when he feels the most complete, and also the most distant.

Panting, his lips rest on her throat. He itches to give her more, mourns that he can’t show her. For, while her blood is red, it tastes of ashes. Ultimate pleasure stolen not by their feelings, but simply by what they _are_. Not a real boy nor girl.

But lying here, as she clings to him, he thinks that doesn’t matter after all.

* * *

Furry (1):

* * *

Furry  
(Spike/Illyria, 'Origin', R - 8/31/2004)

“Mammals are strange creatures.” Illyria’s fingers explored her blue-and-brown hair while the half-breed reassembled his clipboard. “You possess such unnecessary intricacy in these limbs, this fur.”

“’S called hair.” Spike approached her.

She raised one hand, and he steeled himself for a blow. Instead, she touched his hair. “Your fur is white. Odd.” She more closely analyzed her shell. “The junction of my limbs is furry also. Is yours?” She caught his belt to open his armor and observe for herself.

Yelping, Spike leapt back, his jeans bulging noticeably now. “Enough,” he growled.

She smirked. “Perhaps…later?”

He smirked back.

* * *

Lessons (3):

* * *

'Lessons In' Series  
(Spike/Dru & some Dru/Angelus, pre-'School Hard'-'Surprise', R - 8/17/2004)

Lessons In Pain (1 of 3)

Drusilla whimpers against her bonds, burning on the cross. Around her, the crowd roars. Burning torches and sharp blades. Oh, the stars are angry. So very angry.

She’d thought them her friends. She’d poured rivers of blood in their honor, hot red sacrifices. Now they mock her, shinning above wickedly.

The human leader approaches, vials of the burning water in his hands. “We’ll _show_ her!” he shouts out. “A lesson in the pain she’s caused us!”

The mob cheers.

She feels pain. But she knows they’ll soon learn another lesson. The stars have abandoned her, but her William will come...

Lessons In Suffering (2 of 3)

 _Snap._

“See, mate. The first mistake you made was startin’ that little uprising.”

 _Snap._

“The second was takin’ my girl.”

 _Snap._

“The third was chaining her to that cross.”

 _Snap._

“The fourth was burnin’ her with holy water.”

 _Snap._

“The fifth was setting fire to her. And the sixth...” Spike’s teeth gleam in the lamplight. Drusilla, beaten and still feral, gnaws at the mob leader’s other wrist. Which leaves him no more fingers to break. “The sixth,” Spike repeats, “was not killing yourself before I found you.” His hand plunges into the man’s chest, and he savors the human’s scream.

Lessons In Grief (3 of 3)

He thought he knew grief when he saved Dru in Prague. Wrong. Thought he knew again when she couldn’t eat or sleep, crying out to him in pain. Wrong again. Or she’d plummeted down towards death. Wrong, wrong.

 _Real_ grief, Spike now knows, is what he’s currently experiencing. Giving up everything for her, sacrificing his own legs, getting himself trapped in this wheelchair. Thinking it’s worth it, for Dru’s sake. And then hearing her screw Angelus, while he’s trapped and helpless. Because knowing she wouldn’t have done a fraction of it for him? That’s the worst pain in the world...

* * *

On Invitations (2):

* * *

Shunned?  
(Xander & Willow, pre-BtVS, PG - 8/2/2004)

Xander ran home that night, nervous and scared. He rushed past the neighbors who waved at him, intent on his mission. He’d been hearing about it all day at school from Jesse and the other kids. He’d pretended he knew, too, but inside he panicked. When he’d smiled at Willow during nap-time, she’d stuck her tongue out at him. Still mad at him for killing her Barbie. And so the dread had increased...

Feet flying, he dashed into his house. Breathed in relief when he saw the big pink envelope on the table. He’d gotten his birthday invitation after all.

* * *

Marital Bliss  
(Xander/Anya, pre-'Hell's Bells', PG13 - 8/2/2004)

Anya sighs. Before her lay the scattered remains of their latest binge-fest. Not for the first time, she worries that she won’t fit her dress.

Xander silently studies the seating chart. They don’t talk, laugh, or joke like they used to. They’re not even having orgasms now that Anya wants to wait until after the ceremony.

They just sit there, side-by-side, increasingly uncomfortable...

Shaking off the melancholy, Anya returns to her task. After all, this is supposed to be a happy occasion. And all she has to do to make it a stunning success is get the invitations _exactly_ right.

* * *

On Snow (1):

* * *

Conquering Dragons  
(Spike/Illyria, post-'Not Fade Away', PG - 7/26/2004)

Icy scales in one hand and worn leather in the other, Illyria winced at the dozen wounds in her shell. The screams of outrage and battle faded behind them. And, briefly, she let human weakness overcome her, clinging to him in relief. She wouldn’t die this day, thanks to her half-breed. Their leader had seen a dragon to kill; her clever pet had seen the only means of escape. The beast beneath them coughed a breath of – not fire – but pure blue ice. Snow falling all around them as they flew from the Gates of Hell to fight another day...

* * *

On Rings (2):

* * *

Momento  
(Spike/Buffy, post-'Chosen', PG13 - 7/26/2004)

Heaven only knows why she kept it all this time. If she’d remembered, she would have tossed it as soon as Willow’s spell ended. But she’d been too mortified to think straight until she’d gotten home and thrown it onto the dresser in disgust. She’d forgotten about it completely, then. Somehow, it ended up in one of her jewelry boxes. Maybe during her mom’s room-cleaning. She likes that thought; it’d be a memory of both of them, then. And make Buffy feel better that the one item she’d thought to save from her home was an old, silver skull ring.

* * *

Two Rings Away  
(Buffy, post-'Not Fade Away', PG13 - 7/26/2004)

 _Ring!_

Buffy awoke with an inexplicable sense of trepidation. Had she just awoken from a Slayer dream? She didn’t think so...

 _Ring!_

A premonition, then? Foreboding?

Dawn stirred next door, and, nervously, Buffy picked up the receiver. “Hello?” Her voice sounded hollow. “Lorne,” she acknowledged.

Explanations, events spiraling towards disaster. And, finally, the words she’d been dreading...

“Angel? No...”

Another sentence. One that built up a new world around her and shattered it all in one breath.

“Spike, too?”

Apologies.

“N-No... Thanks for letting me know.” She couldn’t remember hanging up the phone; all that existed then were the tears.

* * *

On Dance (1):

* * *

Last Dance  
(Spike/Illyria, post-'Not Fade Away', PG13 - 7/13/2004)

“Dance?”

Illyria squinted at Spike as the rain pelted down. “‘Dance’ is a pointless activity,” she insisted. “Shrill music and awkward movement. Empty touch, wasted energy...” She turned back to the approaching hordes of hell. “And now is not an appropriate time,” she added more charitably.

Severing his first foe’s head with a long-handled axe, he grinned. “Best time in the world for dancing.”

Having shattered her opponent’s spine, she watched the grace of his movements, heard the pulse of life and death in the rhythm of the dance.

“One last dance?” He saw she understood.

She smiled. “I accept.”

* * *

On Dialogue (2):

* * *

Bored Games  
(Spike/Drusilla, pre-S1, R - 6/28/2004)

“All right, ‘ll start… Blood.”

“Dark butterflies, swooping from high above, fangs and claws and death. Streams and rivers of gore, and—”

“Dru, luv?”

“Yes, my Spike?”

“You’re only s’posed to pick one word.”

“Oh… Death.”

“Sex.”

“Elephant.”

“Ivo— Did you say ‘elephant’ for sex?”

“Maybe…”

“Is this something I _really_ don’t wanna know about?”

“They’re simply so…large. Raw, rough tusks. Hard, brutal, painful. Wild, naughty beasts. Make you scream…”

“’ll make _you_ scream…”

“Oh…William…”

“Mmm…Dru?”

“What about our little game?”

“The game can wait ‘til you learn what the _proper_ response to ‘sex’ should be.”

* * *

Confidante  
(Spike/Buffy, post-'Wrecked', R - 6/28/2004)

“A bit early, aren’cha? ‘S only been two hours since you last ran screaming from—

“Something wrong, pet? You’re…crying…

“Anythin’ I can do? Just tell me. R-Remember how we used to talk? Friendly-like. Doesn’t hafta change. C’mon, let’s just lie here, and you can tell Spike all about it. And don’t look at me like that! I can be…cuddly too, and… OK, so ‘m not exactly some harmless poofter. But I can listen. And I do care. I lo—

“Christ, Slayer! Just a little lower… Right there!

“Wait… Sure you don’t wanna talk about—?”

“Spike? Shut up.”

* * *

On Wow (1):

* * *

For Play  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5-ish, PG13 - 6/21/2004)

 

“Wow.”

“My performance was acceptable?” Illyria inquired.

Slumped back on the couch, Spike let out a deep breath. “‘Acceptable’? Never imagined anyone could… Just… Wow.”

“It was unacceptable?”

“That was the most bloody brilliant thing ever,” he assured her.

She smiled. “Shall I do it again?”

“Oh yeah. As often as you like.”

Pleased with her accomplishment, she turned to the new game. “I advise that you stave off your usual meek approach and, instead, steal the aircraft as soon as you are able.”

And, scowling, he snatched up his controller again, ready to reclaim his Grand Theft Auto pride.

* * *

On Poetry (3):

* * *

Callooh, Callay!  
Based on 'The Jabberwocky' by Lewis Carroll  
(Giles, Buffy, S2-ish, PG - 6/14/2004)

“—Quite imperative that you…” As Giles watched his charge fall asleep, a wicked humor overtook him. “…Kill this new demon.”

Buffy kissed her Bronze plans good-bye.

“The Jabberwocky is a manxome foe, with biting jaws and catching claws.” He waited expectantly. Nothing.

“So how do I kill it?”

“You must use the vorpal sword, of course.” Impulsively, he gestured to the sword behind him.

Buffy picked it up. “Any idea where it is?”

“Try under the Tumtum tree.”

A blank stare.

“There’s one in Sunnydale Cemetery.”

“Right, I’m off.”

Giles watched her leave in disbelief. Honestly, education these days…

* * *

Born Too Late  
Based on 'Miniver Cheevy' by Edwin Arlington Robinson  
(Spike/Illyria, post-'Time Bomb', PG - 6/14/2004)

“Givin’ Miniver Cheevy a run for his money, luv?”

Illyria stared out imperiously over the city below. Mortals were ants once again from this perspective. All but him, unfortunately. “I do not know that individual,” she sighed resignedly.

“You know the poem – ‘Miniver Cheevy, born too late’…”

“No.”

“Trust the watcher to leave all the important stuff out of your education.”

“Your poetry is insignificant when my kingdom has left me.”

“Is it?” A raised eyebrow. “‘Miniver coughed, and called it fate, / And kept on drinking.’”

“I do not drink.”

“Close enough from where I stand,” were his parting words.

* * *

The Second Coming  
Based on 'The Second Coming' by William Butler Yeats  
(Buffy, Angel, post-BtVS S7 & AtS S5, R - 6/14/2004)

It came softly. Like so many apocalypses before, heroes rallied into action, fought with endless conviction, and – inevitably – as chance was bound to fail them one day, fell to dusty death.

The bright flames as one who named himself ‘Champion’ gasped out of existence with one last inferno. Bloody blonde locks of a girl who’d foolishly learned that the world ended each year, and that end must be fought. Vultures swirled above, cries mocking the perceived Justness of Right.

For the only unchanging thing in this existence was change itself. And even the apocalypse wasn’t the end of the world…

* * *

On Orange (1):

* * *

A Demoness Of Many Colors  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5-ish, PG - 6/13/2004)

“Is this acceptable?” Illyria took the form of the Burkle entity.

Spike studied her wardrobe skeptically. “Too girl-next-door for this club. Bring back the cat-suit.”

Her armor returned.

“And the hair… Maybe something in a nice orange?”

Orange streaks flowed through her hair.

A wicked smiled curved Spike’s lips. “Right. Now, try leavin’ one half orange, and back to blue with the other side.”

She complied.

“Now, full rainbow effect. And mind the indigo. People always forget indigo.”

Illyria’s eyes turned deadly. “You mock me.”

“’S just so much fun.”

Glaring, Illyria returned to her previous look. “Orange will suffice.”

* * *

On Leather (1):

* * *

New Coat  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5-ish, R - 6/2/2004)

“My body armor provides adequate protection and covering,” Illyria insisted. “This venture is pointless.”

“Can never have too much leather, bluet.” Spike ran his hands down her sleeves sensuously. “Something solid to strip off your body… Know how you like uncoverin’ me?” he purred against the blue of her throat. “Peelin’ off slowly and… _exploring_?”

A shiver.

“Let me play, too, then.”

She studied herself in the mirror, unconcerned by Spike’s lack of reflection. The black leather jacket he’d selected for her was, indeed, flattering to a goddess such as herself. “I will possess this new leather,” she finally agreed.

* * *

On Beginnings (3):

* * *

What Tomorrow May Bring…  
(Willow, pre-S1, PG - 5/31/2004)

Willow could barely contain her excitement that evening. She rearranged her notebooks, wrote her name in her assignment book, sharpened her pencils. Xander and Jesse were bummed, but the first day of school always made her smile. New teachers, classes, students…

She had such high hopes for her sophomore year. Maybe Xander would finally pick up on her crush. Maybe Jesse and Cordelia would stop fighting. Maybe the new librarian would be cooler than Ms. Franklin and actually let her stay after school.

A million thoughts in her mind, Willow fell asleep, happily oblivious to what this year would bring…

* * *

Cycles  
(Illyria, 'Time Bomb', PG13 - 5/31/2004)

Their deaths were easy. Illyria watched the leader explode into dust. Simple beings, unable to comprehend even a fragment of her power. What chance had their assassination attempt really had?

She was, however, not entirely pleased with this outcome. Her own survival was paramount. But, had the choice been given her, she was surprised to discover that she would have preferred them to live.

A strange sacrifice.

But then pain ripped through her once more, and suddenly she was dodging blows from the white-haired half-breed.

Back to the beginning, she realized in despair, wondering if she’d ever get it right…

* * *

Tiny Green Spark  
(Dawn, 'Buffy vs. Dracula', PG - 5/31/2004)

It cried out in its own incorporeal way when it felt its fabric being ripped and remolded. Visions and memories were thrust upon it, drowning out its prior being, replacing it with something new and magical. It felt its existence rebend, folding in over itself, and the first stirring of newly-formed emotions within it screamed of fear and terror…and perhaps even a bit of excitement.

But then its death and rebirth were forgotten, it consciousness completely transformed like a butterfly from a chrysalis, oblivious to the caterpillar it had once been.

And the Key was gone. Dawn was beginning.

* * *

On Ends (3):

* * *

The Undiscovered Country  
(Spike/Illyria, post-AtS S5, NC17 - 5/31/2004)

This was… comfortable, Illyria reflected as she lay prone between the bed-sheets. She’d fought the lingering human aspects within her for so long, it had been a relief to finally give in. That, and her body’s urges seemed to have been sated for the moment. New, indeed, but quite pleasant.

“Mornin’, Blue.”

A naked body pressed against her back, her paramour of the night before. And more in the future, she hoped. She felt the instinctive upward curling of her lips as he kissed her shoulder, whispered in her ear…

Frowned.

“You wish to place what _where_?!” she repeated incredulously.

* * *

Moving On  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5-ish, PG13 - 5/31/2004)

Spike had known it was over back in Rome. He’d railed against the end like always, of course, wore a mask for the world. Only when the decision to leave was finally upon him, did he call his own bluff.

Didn’t change things, though. He still had that image of the feisty woman burned into his brain, the fights and the bickering and oh-so-sweet resolution. It just seemed that the woman had changed shape…

“Your punches feel like those of the young female of your species,” Illyria informed him with a wicked half-smile.

Oh yeah… _Definitely_ time to move on…

* * *

Means to an End  
(Spike/Buffy, S7-ish, PG13 - 5/30/2004)

He watched her from the shadows, her smile bright as she gazed upon her companion, the sun glinting off her golden hair. She was beautiful, radiant…effulgent. She was happy, free of past clouds. Painful death, loss, and resurrection all forgotten.

And she paid him no mind. Years of building friendship, painful steps and sacrifices, throwing himself over the flame of her agony – and, god, his metaphors still sucked just like they had during his poet days – and for nothing.

Never had a chance. He’d just been a means to an end for her. Still not worth a moment’s love.

* * *

On Ice Cream (2):

* * *

Peaches and Cream  
(Spike/Buffy, happy S6, NC17 - 5/23/2004)

“Mmm,” Buffy murmured in rapture, closing her lips around the spoon and sucking. “Peaches and cream…”

Spike, who had been quite contentedly curled up on the couch beside her, started at that. “Peaches?” he repeated incredulously. “You’re eatin’ _peaches_ ice cream?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Over-sensitive much?”

His eyes narrowed in a wicked smirk, and he snatched her bowl away, putting it on the table.

“Hey!” she protested, pouting.

But then he was upon her, pinning her to the couch, unzipping, pushing her skirts aside… Slowly making love. “Make you forget peaches ever existed,” he murmured against her.

“Already have.”

* * *

Strawberry Sins  
(Spike/Buffy, pre-'Dead Things', NC17 - 5/21/2004)

Spike quickly spotted the one glistening warrior in the Bronze. Sat across from her.

His Slayer ignored him, focusing intently on her ice cream treat. She leaned in, wrapped her lips oh-so-slowly around the straw and… sucked. He hissed, instantly hard at watching her drink down the cold cream, white-and-red striped straw turning pretty pink like strawberries. She smiled wickedly at him then. Tongue flicked out to taste whipped-cream.

And he couldn’t take it anymore. His hand up her skirt, fingers inside her as she savored her desserts. Moans as coolness entered her from both ends. Oh, sweet sin, indeed…

* * *

On Hands (3):

* * *

Snippets from Late-Night Kitten Poker  
(Spike, Clem, & others, pre-'As You Were', PG13 - 5/17/2004)

“Another hand?”

“’m in.”

“Hey, Spike? Didn’t the Slayer say no more playing for kittens?”

“Don’t need your motherin’, Clem.”

“Sorry. How many?”

“Two.”  
   
 

 “No way he’s got twenty-five persians. I’ve _seen_ his crypt.”

“Callin’ my bluff?”

“No fair killing me like Sharky’s collectors.”

“Just a misunderstanding.”

“Fine. I’m in. Call.”

“Aces over queens, mate.”

“Kings over aces.”

“Wait… _five_ aces?”

“Oh, bugger.”  
   
 

“Four eights.”

“Oi, you cheated!”

“Prove it.”

“If mine didn’t count, neither does yours.”

“You got caught. Now, my payment?”

“Fuck.”

“Told you he didn’t have the kittens.”

“He can always make it up watching some eggs…”

* * *

Delightful Hands  
(Spike/Buffy, 'Dead Things', NC17 - 5/17/2004)

Buffy gasps in pleasure as his hand slips under her thong, finds her clit. He whispers naughty things, but all she feels are those delightful hands, stroking her harshly to climax.

Countless memories of those pleasing hands flash before her eyes. And, then, far at the back, softer memories. A spell, a smile, a ring…and then those strong hands, wrapped around hers. The handholding is the part she remembers best. Affection, intimacy, love like she’d never felt before.

She comes at that image, of soft promises that can never be.

After all, he’s a vampire, and this is wrong.

* * *

Hands  
(Illyria, post-'Shells', PG - 5/17/2004)

 _Such frail things are human hands. I had never noticed them when I ruled the world and mortals were mere muck at my feet. But now that I have taken this human shell as my new body, I cannot help but be fascinated._

 _Intricate, tiny digits. So strange of form, yet well-suited to their task. Flexible, dexterous, and manageable for so many tasks. They move like waves, like the scuttling legs of the creatures in the ocean’s depths, and I watch the parts beneath this shell’s flesh move, and I am intrigued._

 _Fragility and beauty all in one. Quite delightful._

* * *

On Punishment (3):

* * *

A Little Self-Torture  
(Spike/Buffy, pre-'Into the Woods', R - 5/10/2004)

Every night, he watched. Watched the woman he loved give herself to another man. Listened to the sounds of sex, the smell, and fought to keep his demon down. Fought horrible waves of emotion that demanded violence, revenge…tears…

And then the next phase. Watched his girl sneak out nightly, unsatisfied yet too disgusted with him to seek the release he knew she’d find in his arms. Watched Soldier Boy play games with those vamp whores behind his Slayer’s back.

And there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do, Spike realized, because Buffy’d never love him instead. His final punishment.

* * *

Pun Wars  
(Xander & Dawn, BtVS S7, PG - 5/10/2004)

“You heard they arrested a math teacher in Iraq for having a protractor, a slide rule, and multiplication tables, right?” Xander asked innocently. “They said he had weapons of ‘math instruction’.”

Dawn groaned at the joke. “Get thee to a punnery,” she shot back, then stuck her tongue out for good measure.

Not to be beaten at his own game, he accepted her challenge. “Now, that wasn’t very punny.”

An eye-roll. “I’m going to charge to you for punnitive damage.”

“Can’t take your punishment?”

Dawn winced. “You win,” she surrendered. “Just, please… _stop_!”

Xander grinned. “The Pun Master wins again.”

* * *

My Pet  
(Spike/Illyria, AU post-'Origin', NC17 - 5/10/2004)

“I should punish you for such an infraction,” Illyria hissed, hand touching her jaw where his fist had struck her.

Smirking, Spike – as always – looked unimpressed. “Bored now.”

Dark flames boiled within. “A proper pet would grovel at my feet for forgiveness.”

“Never been much ’f one for proper,” he countered cheekily.

And Illyria’s patience finally snapped. She tackled him, trapping him beneath her, tearing at clothing. “Then your punishment shall be to serve my pleasure.”

Wide-eyed, Spike realized her intent. Gasped when she surrounded his cock and rode him hard. Maybe this pet thing had its perks, after all…

* * *

On Books (3):

* * *

Yossarian Lives  
(Angel and 'Catch-22', AtS S5, PG - 5/3/2004)

“We’ve got a problem, sir.”

Angel looked up from his desk at the security chief. “You mean despite the fact that we’re an evil law-firm, possibly run by Satan himself?”

The guard frowned. No sense of humor. “Unknown agents have infiltrated our offices and signed legal documents and work orders.” He placed the stack of papers on Angel’s desk.

Looking up at the man skeptically, Angel checked the signatures. “Washington Irving?” he repeated in disbelief, checking the next form. “Irving Washington?”

“We believe they may be working together.”

Angel just chuckled.

Blank response.

Nope, no sense of humor, at all.

* * *

Tell-All  
(Spike, Angelus, Dracula, 1897, PG -5/3/2004)

Angelus had refused to read it. Darla was already insisting she go back to daddy and have the git killed. Drusilla just giggled and asked whether she should eat spiders, too.

But, one evening, Spike actually sat down and read the bloody thing. Couldn’t stop chuckling. “Get this,” he prodded Angelus, reading aloud. “‘But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing. The red in them was lurid—’”

Hadn’t gotten further because they’d both cracked up.

“You’re right,” Angelus reluctantly admitted. “Drac _is_ a ponce.”

* * *

Open Book  
(Spike/Illyria, AtS S5, PG13 - 5/3/2004)

Illyria watched the lowly beings walk past, intent on their meaningless tasks. All knew she was watching, but none dared look her way.

Except one…

“Rememberin’ when they feared you?” he whispered in her ear, body brushing hers. “The rush from knowin’ you owned their lives? Rough battling the demon, innit? Fighting the desire to cause pain, watch blood spill…”

She shivered at the thought that any half-breed could read her this well. All her divinity, and she was still an open book to him. “You know nothing,” she lied.

And Spike smirked. “Know that fib by heart,” he retorted.

* * *

On Minor Characters (3):

* * *

Goddess  
(Knox & Illyria, 'Shells', PG13 - 4/26/2004)

If ever Knox had doubted for a moment, now he knew he’d been right all along. His goddess stood proud before him... What was the line from that poem? Ah yes. ‘A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun.’

He watched the mere mortals tremble at her second coming. Truly, this was the greatest gift he could have given Fred. To host this divinity: beautiful, perfect, undefeatable...

The fools didn’t see it, especially _Wesley_. As the bullet struck him, Knox knew his death didn’t matter because soon they’d all know Illyria’s greatness. He died knowing he’d done the right thing.

* * *

Behold, the Power of Cheese!  
(Amy, S4, PG - 4/26/2004)

Amy woke that morning with a yawn. Nuzzled into the paper scraps, hiding from the sun under a piece of last week’s New York Times.

Woke again midday when Willow changed her food and water.

Had something to eat, rediscovered her arch-nemesis...

Eyes narrowed, she approached the metal and wire contraption. Today would be the day, she decided. Today she would triumph...

Confidently, she stepped into the wheel and ran.

And ran...

Seven hours later Willow came home. With a treat.

Growling menacingly at the wheel, Amy abandoned her daily task. Ate the crumbles of cheese. Ah, life was good.

* * *

Doomed  
(Dalton, 'Surprise', PG - 4/26/2004)

He knew this wasn’t good. It could only lead to destruction, really. The folly of youth. But it wasn’t his place to interfere. He simply retreated to his library, burying himself within the endless knowledge contained within. It was a lovely escape, free from the apocalypses and nightly battles. Some quiet time for himself.

But, that night, he had almost a premonition that this was the end. When the Judge’s hand reached out for him, he knew he’d waited too long to speak up.

And, with a final frustrated sigh at Spike and Drusilla’s latest scheme, Dalton exploded into dust.


End file.
